Bond
by MrBenzedrine
Summary: What happens at "Bond" stays at "Bond" -Hermione is taken out for drinks at club "Bond", an establishment that can offer you anything from some alcohol and dancing to SO much more. When she, quite literally, falls into Draco Malfoy's lap, will she open up her mind and explore sexual desires she never knew she had? Kink. COMPLETE **FIRST PLACE: BEST SMUT 2017 Dramione Awards**
1. Part 1

**Wrote this on a whim. Kinky themes. Part one of four.**

 **Super thank you to WayMay for editing and believing in this, even when I thought it might be sh*t. You always have my back, and for that, I thank you dearly.**  
 **~A.**

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 **Bond**

 **By MrBenzedrine**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I won't make a profit from this story. Unless you count friendship/followers as profit.**  
 **Dramione shipping**  
 **Rated M for lemons and future lemons.**  
 **Part 1 of 4.**

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 **"Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven**

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"Luna, I don't quite feel comfortable…"

She stared across the front lawn of a lavish looking, three-tier building made up of black bricks and no windows. Surrounding the establishment were trees on all sides- privacy, she noted shyly, for all attending 'guests.' There was one circular slab of concrete fifty feet away for Apparition arrivals and departures, where Hermione and Luna stood, and a beautifully constructed path made of cobblestones leading up to the front door.

Luna Lovegood gave her friend a cheerful smile and patted her shoulder. "This will be good for you, Hermione. You need to unwind -you said it yourself."

"Yes," Hermione nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as she glanced down at her white sundress accented with blue flowers. The halter straps around her neck dug in too tight to her skin (though Hermione had only herself to blame, as she tied those straps rather tight so no one would be able to untie them quickly). Her exposed legs trembled in her ballet flats as the night air picked up a considerably icy gust of wind. "But when I said that, I meant a nice cup of herbal tea and a good book. Not… this." She waved at the building with its daunting black door as the only visible way in or out.

Luna shrugged in response and took her friend by the arm to lead her down the path. "Ever since your divorce, you've been nothing but a pent up bundle of nargles. -Everyone says so."

"Do they?"

"Yes." The blonde smiled warmly as she tugged at Hermione's arm to quicken their stride. "I promise you; there's nothing sinister behind these doors. Just a way for witches and wizards to release pent up energy."

"By feeling up on each other in designated rooms?" She gave a cold laugh.

"It's not like that at all," said Luna, " _Bond_ is a place where you can have a conversation with someone if that's all you wish, or you can do more. One can act out their most irreverent fantasies in a safe, structured environment. There are rules. Safety regulations. It's just up your alley."

"Except the part where I'm expected to pick a random stranger to engage in sexual acts with."

Luna came to an abrupt stop, turning her head up towards the slightly taller witch. "The first tier is just a nightclub. You can have a drink, dance, and unwind. You don't have to explore the other two floors. But I do think this will be good for you."

"Why did I agree to this in the first place?"

"Because you know it's what you need. And because I told you that I wouldn't sign your petition unless you came out for a drink with me."

"A drink." Hermione nodded. "Yes. Exactly. A drink. _Not this_!"

"You never specified _where_."

Hermione sighed and gave up, allowing Luna to walk her all the way up the front steps and to the large, metal door with a silver, hooped knocker. Luna reached her hand up, knocked on it once, twice, and then two quick times, and the door swung open immediately. The hallway looked dark and secluded, and Hermione backed up. "I… I don't think anyone's home."

"It's just a glamour. Come on. In you pop." Luna shoved her friend inside, and when Hermione's feet broke through the threshold, the dark entryway lit to life with color. Surrounding her was a large, lavish nightclub; the walls were draped in red velvet on three sides, and on the fourth stood a wall lined with shelves of liquor all the way to the ceiling. A bar, complete with black, cushioned swivel chairs and scantily clad witches brewing alluring alcoholic concoctions, ran the length of the fourth wall. The dance floor was packed with sweaty bodies, jumping and gyrating to some pulsing, rhythmic bass that shook Hermione down to her bones as she took a few more steps inside. Luna came up behind her, her red lipstick pulling back into a smile that said, 'told you you'd like it'.

A burly looking wizard with a shaved head walked over to them with his wand. "Welcome to Tier One, ladies." Luna offered out her left hand, and the wizard waved his wand over it- a red X glowed underneath her skin and disappeared. Hermione raised an eyebrow as the wizard looked impatiently to her, and it took Luna elbowing her in the ribs for her to thrust her hand out and allow him to do the same. The X tingled as it glowed back at her, but when it faded away, the sensation left. "Right. Tonight is ladies' night, so witches drink for half price. If you find someone interesting enough to proceed to Tier Two, please see Tommy over at the staircase." He nudged to a slender, shorter wizard with curly brown hair and a clipboard. "Enjoy yourselves."

"We will," Luna grinned, tugging Hermione around the arm over to the edge of the bar top.

"What is the X for?" Hermione asked inquisitively.

"It's a consent spell. If at any time you don't like what someone is doing, the red X lights up, and the bouncers are alerted to step in. I told you -safety."

Hermione blinked down at her hand twice, flexing her fingers. "That's… quite brilliant."

"See? Nothing to worry about."

An edgy witch with purple hair and a nose ring walked up on the other side of the counter, smiling to Luna. "Lu! Nice to see you."

"Hi, Jez," Luna grinned, blushing.

"The usual tonight?"

"Double it, please. I'm treating my friend for a night out."

The bartender named Jez looked Hermione over, nodded, and gave Luna -dare Hermione think it -a jealous look. "She's a pretty one."

"And as straight as they get," Luna replied. Jez seemed thoroughly satisfied with the answer, and poured them two shots of fire whiskey, and another shot each of pixie rum. "I get off work in an hour," she told the blonde, giving her a small wink.

Hermione now understood why Luna enjoyed this particular club so much. It wasn't because of what went on at the other levels. It was because Luna found herself a beautiful bartender to enjoy said time on the other two levels. Which meant in an hour, when she would no doubt flitter off to locate the bartender when her shift ended, Hermione would have the opportunity to slip out the front door, no harm, no foul. Relief flooded over her, and she gave out a sigh of contentment. 'Oh, what the Hell?' she thought and downed her shots, happily. Luna looked impressed, and she toasted Hermione to a "Night of frivolous intentions and bad decisions!"

It didn't take long for the alcohol to hit Hermione's bloodstream -she was a lightweight, more than she cared to admit, and soon Luna had her out on the dance floor, attempting to sway to the beat of the songs as the vibrating bass tickled her skin. A few men tried to approach her to dance, but she waved them off politely, opting for dancing with her friend instead. While she danced, she took the time to observe the rest of the club. Along the three walls with velvet drapes, there were tables. Each table had a particular rune associated with it, and two to four wizards or witches with flute glasses or crystal tumblers. The VIP section, no doubt. She also noticed that some of the men and women at the sectioned tables wore black domino masks.

"Luna," Hermione whispered in her friend's ear, (or shouted because the music was blaring around them), "Why do the VIP's wear masks?"

"They're not VIP's," said Luna, "They're the ones who've come here with their spouses."

"What?" Hermione frowned. "You mean they come here to cheat?"

"No." Luna realized that her friend had given up on the dancing, and she ushered her back to a corner pocket table with a flowing rune that resembled a figure eight. Hermione was surprised that they had found a table so quickly, but then again, Luna was a regular. "There's a few couples who come here together to… swing."

"Swing?"

"You know… exchange partners for the night."

Hermione gasped. "People do that?"

Luna rolled her eyes. "Yes, Hermione. People do quite a bit of things besides drink tea and read books."

"And… and they're alright with it? All of them?"

"How should I know?" Her friend shrugged. "But they wear the masks out of respect for their partners. It's a declaration for the singles in the area; 'I'm taken, so don't get attached.' Makes things less complicated for people, such as yourself."

"Such as myself?"

"You know. Someone who might get attached."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "You talk like I'm going to pick someone from this place and dive right in."

"Who knows? You might find someone you're interested in. All I'm saying is that you needn't bother yourself with the masked ones. They usually just trade off amongst themselves. They're not your speed."

Feeling a bit insulted, Hermione crossed her arms and watched her friend saunter off to fetch them more alcohol. It was intriguing, watching the men and women in the domino masks, and soon Hermione found her eyes trailing over each and every one, trying to piece together their story. Were they happy being here? Did they feel comfortable with passing their significant other off to someone else? Did they feel at all branded by the masks, or was it liberating to hide their identities? She watched a beautiful brunette leave with a caramel-creamed gentleman in one of those masks, strolling hand in hand, across the dance floor over to the set of ebony steps leading up to the second tier. The wizard called 'Tommy' waved a wand over both of their left hands, finding them reasonable, and unclasped a velvet rope to allow the couple their ascension to Hermione's unknown.

"Getting more interested in that second tier, are we?" Luna giggled, returning with a martini glass full of some frothy, green liquid that gave off the smell of green apples. Hermione licked a bit of foam off the top, accidently catching the eye of a domino-masked gentleman in the opposite back corner at the same time. She wasn't sure how she knew he was watching her. The club was so dark and the fact that his face in her general direction didn't mean his eyes were actually on _her_ , but her gut jerked, and her instincts flared. Even from this far away, she could tell he was handsome. His features were sharp, and his body was lean. He looked a tad familiar, but then again... "Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind terribly if I…" She nudged off towards the bar, where the bartender Jez had already collected her purse. Hermione shook her head and waved her hand. "Go on, Luna. I'm going to finish this and probably be off. -I had a lovely time. Really."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go on. Off you pop."

"Thanks, I shouldn't be too long… maybe you'll stay?"

She gave her friend an encouraging nod, and Luna gave her a hug before skittering off to meet Jez on the edge of the dance floor. Together, the two made their way to Tommy and the rope and ascended the staircase into the unknown.

'By that time, I'll be long gone,' thought Hermione, taking another sip of her foamy beverage. The brew was cold on her lips but heated up when it hit the back of her throat. The bubbles burst on their way down her esophagus, and she found an extreme urge to giggle. She brought her hand to her mouth, biting back a slew of laughter as a man with charcoal skin and a shaved head approached her table, donning one of those alluring black masks. Hmm, wasn't that strange? It wasn't alluring before. Now it was all she could think about. What did he look like behind that strip of fabric?

"Hello," said the man, taking Luna's chair. He gave her a grin and strummed his fingers along the table. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before. Is this your first time at _Bond_?"

There was a voice in the back of Hermione's head that shouted, 'Don't speak to him! You don't know him!' But a warmth crawled over her skin, and she smiled, despite herself. "It is."

"Oh my. Well, that is a rare gift indeed. Was that fetching little dollop here a moment ago your date?"

"Luna?" She heard herself laugh. It was like she was on the outside, watching herself. She hardly had any control of herself. "No, she's just a friend of mine."

"Are you in the market for more friends?"

The room began to spin. Hermione shook her head, attempting to rid the bubbly feeling tickling her brain. She stood up from her chair, clutching at her wand. "E-excuse me…" There was something terribly wrong. She stumbled across the dance floor in an attempt to make it to the bathroom, but she brushed into one of the dancers and stumbled backward -directly into someone's lap.

"Oh! I'm so sorry." She tried to stand, but the room was a merry-go-round of lights, colors, and sounds that made her wrap her arms around the person instead, burying her face into their neck. "I… I can't seem to stand…"

"I'll admit, this isn't exactly how I thought we'd see each other again," said a quiet, velveteen voice in her ear. It belonged to a man, and it was oddly familiar. Where had she heard it before? Hermione drew her face back, still clinging to whomever it was as her body began to shake. She looked into the calm, collective eyes of…

"Malfoy?" It had been years since they'd last spoken, but she'd recognize those silver eyes any day, even if they were tucked behind the black fabric of a mask. Her breath caught, and she quickly made to stand, but the spinning in her head jerked her right back down so that she pressed her nose into the crook of his neck. "So… dizzy…"

"Oi, oi." A second voice called -it was the man who had approached her at her table. "Just what do you think you're doing, Draco?"

"Doing? I haven't done a thing. She fell into my _lap_."

"Likely story."

"It's true," said a feminine voice to Hermione's left, "I saw the whole thing."

"Pans, why don't you do us all a favor and go grab one of those sobering tablets from the front desk?"

There was a shuffle of fabric, and Hermione heard the distinct clack of heels as someone left the table.

"I've got dibs on her when she comes to."

"You haven't got dibs on anyone, Zabini. -Do you even realize who you were about to chat up?"

Hermione shifted closer to the warmth of Malfoy's body, still immersed in the spinning of her equilibrium. She gave a small yawn, tightened her grip around his neck, and mumbled, "You smell nice."

She heard him snort a laugh. "Do I? Merlin help us all. Gryffindor's princess thinks I smell nice."

The room vibrated with kicking bass of the music, and Hermione groaned. "Why… why am I so dizzy?"

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and a pretty witch with short, black hair held out two pink tablets in front of her. "Here. Chew these. You'll be right as rain in a moment."

She reached out, slipped the chews into her mouth, and bit down. There was an uproar of fizz that spilled down the back of her throat, and with a small cough, her head cleared, as well as her vision. Slowly, she began to piece together the events of the last five minutes, looking up around at the array of domino masks staring back at her.

"Oh, look," said Pansy Parkinson, "She's come around. Hello. Someone get a bit too tossed for her own good?"

She felt a warm breath tickle the side of her neck. "I have half a mind to think someone spiked your drink. Did you piss off the bartender?"

Hermione went ridged, and she loosened the grip around the neck she clung to, peeling her face back slowly to meet the eyes of Draco Malfoy. He held an amused smirk as he stared back at her, seemingly not bothered at all by the idea that she was sitting precariously on his lap.

"I… I'm so sorry. I.. One moment I was drinking with Luna… and the next…" That horrible bartender! She must have drugged Hermione's beverage! She searched her eyes around at all of her childhood counterparts, taking into account that they were all here, in _Bond_ , and they were all wearing masks. She jumped out of Malfoy's lap immediately and staggered to her feet. "I… I should get going. I'm sure Luna will be looking for me."

"Didn't look that way to me," said Malfoy, smirking up at her. "I think Looney might have replaced you."

"I'm not _with_ Luna. Not like that."

"Then why are you in a place like this?" asked Pansy. "I didn't take you for the type."

Hermione flushed cherry pink as Malfoy laughed and said, "Well, of course, she isn't the type. She, apparently, wandered in here by mistake. Tell me, Granger, did you think this was a library from the outside?"

"Still as quippish as ever, I see. The years haven't changed you."

"Nor you, apparently."

"I dunno," said Blaise Zabini, stepping forward and draping an arm around Hermione's shoulder, "She looks a bit more grown up to me." The ex-Slytherin gestured down to her tight fitting dress, and more noticeably, her breasts. The entire table lit up with laughter, and Hermione felt the back of her left hand prickle. It lit up with the red X, and Zabini instantly removed his grip on her. "Sorry, Granger."

"Weasley," Malfoy went to correct.

"Granger," Hermione said definitively. He quirked a blonde eyebrow at her, expressionless otherwise.

"Granger? Well, well. You think that'd be all over the papers."

"It was," she said icily.

"I thought it was odd she wasn't wearing a mask," said Pansy to Blaise.

"So, is that why you're here?" Malfoy teased. "Exploring a side of yourself you couldn't when you were with Ronikins?"

"Don't call him that."

He shrugged. "What do you care?"

"I… I don't." She glanced around the group. "I really should be going. Erm… thank you all, again."

"Off in such a hurry?" Zabini asked, stepping into her path.

"Didn't you get the hint the first time, Blaise? She's not interested."

Hermione felt the back of her neck prickle, and she turned around. "Excuse you, but where do you get off deciding who I am and am not interested in?"

Malfoy grinned up at her. "Oh? Are you interested? By all means, then. Go on."

"I…"

"Are you interested?" Blaise asked her, hopeful.

"I've never… I just came here for the alcohol."

"And you did such a splendid job keeping that under control," Malfoy quipped. Hermione had half a mind to hex him on the spot, and reached for her wand -where was it? Oh, Lord! Where was her wand? "I must have dropped… has anyone seen-?" She turned on the spot, looking around the dance floor for any sign of it. "-my wand?"

"Silly Granger. You are a mess this evening." Draco Malfoy raised his own, cast a silent accio spell, and Hermione watched as her wand came sailing through a crowd of dancers to fly towards him. He grabbed it tightly and began to twirl it through his fingertips. "Oh, looky what I found."

"Give it here, Malfoy," Hermione said, jutting her hand out.

"Hmm… what will you give me if I do?"

"I know what I will if you don't -you want a sock in the nose like our third year?"

"Cheeky." He held it out to her, and she snatched it up. "I take it you're off to scurry away back home?"

"I don't scurry."

"But you _are_ leaving."

"Yes."

"It's just as well. I dare say prudish imps don't make well for this type of environment."

" _Prudish-_? Did you just call me an _imp_?"

"Come on, Blaise," Pansy said, exchanging glances with Malfoy. Hermione wasn't sure why, but she felt as if there were some unspoken words between them. "Why don't we go have a dance?"

"Really? You want to dance with me? I've been trying to get you to for weeks. Why now?"

"If you want to question it, I can just as easily change my mind."

"No, no!" Blaise bowed gracefully to Hermione. "Maybe another time, Granger? I'm always a willing participant to break in the new guests." A chill went up Hermione's spine, thinking of what Blaise could mean by 'break in', and she shuddered as she watched Pansy drag him off towards the dance floor, leaving her and Malfoy alone at the table. They stared at each other for a time, though she wasn't sure why.

"I thought you were going?"

"I am."

"Go on then. Off you get."

She scowled. "You don't get to tell me when I leave. I will leave of my own accord."

"Oh, of course. Of course. But this place isn't for the faint of heart, is it?" He grinned. "I knew the moment I saw you walk in that you wouldn't make it till midnight. We were all taking bets, you see. Pansy was quite generous; she said you'd at least make it till one. Looks like, however, that I've won the pool."

"And what did Zabini say?"

"He said he'd get you to stay all night -underneath him. When I called him a twat, he went to talk to you."

"Confident, isn't he?"

"He's got more confidence than game."

"Sounds like someone else I know."

"Why don't you just go on along home, Granger? Get back to your books and your… whatever it is you do."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "No." She took an empty seat next to him, crossing her arms. "I've decided you can't win the pool."

"Have you?" He smirked. "You do know that they close down the dance floor at eleven thirty?"

No, Hermione did _not_ know that. "Why would they?"

"To entice everyone to the upper tiers." He drifted his eyes to the ceiling, and presumably, beyond. He looked pleased with himself.

"Is that where your wife is?"

His smile dropped. "I'd rather not talk about her if it's all the same to you."

"Why not?"

"Personal reasons. -Would you want to talk about your separation from Weasley?"

"No."

"Then let's make a deal -I won't ask you about him if you don't ask me about her."

"Fine." She sighed, glancing around at the wizards and witches with their bodies melded into one another's. It had been far too long since Hermione had been physically close to anyone -Malfoy's lap had practically been the closest experience to another man since Ron. And he'd smelled rather nice… when she was sure he wasn't looking (obviously lost in thought), she took the time to have a look at him. He had grown since their last encounter -his legs appeared longer, and his shoulders were filled out. He still was slim, but not skinny like before. Other than that, he looked about the same. Still the same white-blonde hair and steely eyes. Still that arrogant smirk as his resting face. "So, why aren't you up there?"

"What?" he asked, bringing his focus back around to her and out of his thoughts.

"Up there." She gestured to the ceiling. "I assume you didn't come here for the ambiance. This doesn't seem like your scene."

"That's because it's not. It's my wife's."

"Ah." She nodded, biting on her lower lip. "I know we said not to talk about it, but you can't leave me at that."

"Burning with questions?"

"Yes."

"Good." He smirked.

"Come on, please? One question?"

"You just can't help yourself can you?" He watched her shake her head. "Fine. One." He threw up a finger. "And that's it. Ask."

"If this is your wife's sort of thing, why even come at all if you aren't interested? I mean, you wear the mask, so I assume you mean to play a bit."

"Well, well. Look who suddenly just got curious about my sex life?"

"Don't be crude. Answer the question -you said you would."

He chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Because everyone likes a bit of fun once in a while."

"Not me." She gestured around the floor. "Not this."

"No?" He leaned forward. "Then why did you agree to come? Your friend must have told you what kind of establishment this was. So, answer a question of _mine_. How can you sit there and pretend you're _not_ curious about those upper floors?"

Hermione bit down on her lower lip, and eventually caved to the truth. "I'm a _tad_ curious, but that doesn't mean I'd actually go through with anything. What I mean is… I just… "

"Curiosity's got the best of you?"

She nodded. "Why am I even talking about this with you?"

"Who knows." He shrugged, leaning back and giving a long stretch. There was a significant pause that stretched out over minutes, where the two of them quietly watched the dancers on the floor and the lights flicker between hues of reds, greens, and blues. Eventually, Malfoy broke the silence. "If you're interested, I could show you."

"Show me what?"

"The second floor." Where she thought she would find a smirk, she only found a thoughtful, serious expression.

"Are you off the rails?" She laughed. "You think I'd go up there with you? And what-? Fool around?"

"Like I'd want to fool around with you," he sneered quietly, crossing his arms. "I was only offering to show you. You can't go up on your own. You have to have a partner. Or a group."

"And why would you be so privy to escort me upstairs to sate my curiosity?"

"Because I'm dying to see your reaction."

"You're a pig."

"And you're a chicken."

She gasped. "I am not!"

"Oh look, your feathers are ruffling. Are you _wet_ , Granger?" He cast her a sly wink. She didn't miss is _double entendre_.

"I am _not_ a chicken."

"Prove it." He challenged. "Go up to the second tier with me."

Hermione wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe it was her Gryffindor nature. Maybe it was because she didn't want to seem yellow in Malfoy's eyes. Perhaps, and if only a little bit, the thought of seeing what was on the second floor had her grasping at the chance. Even if it was with Malfoy. She didn't have to do anything, she told herself. That's what the little red X was for, wasn't it? "Alright." She stood and yanked him up to his feet as well. "If it will shut you up, let's go."

His eyes lit up behind his mask, and he gave a dangerous grin that made her heart slam in her chest. "Really?"

"I said yes, didn't I? I could just change my mind."

He fell silent at once, merely giving a small gesture towards the other end of the floor, where the guard named Tommy waited. Much to Hermione's surprise, Malfoy slipped his hand in hers, a claim on what was his as they walked through the crowded dance floor and to the velvet rope separating them from what was above. Tommy checked their hands, smiled, and waved his wand to pull back the line. Still not a word spoken, Malfoy tugged her by the hand up the stairs, Hermione's eyes trailing down to the remaining partiers as she wondered what had gotten into her. Was she actually climbing this staircase with Malfoy? What on Earth had gotten into her this evening?

"Prepare yourself," he called back to her as they arrived at a red door painted with a clear number 2.

"Why? What am I going to see?"

He chuckled darkly, gripping her hand tighter. "Oh, this is going to be rich."

* * *

By the choice of Malfoy's words, Hermione expected to see a massive orgy as the door swung open. She expected to see people splayed irreverently about the room, clothes discarded on the floor, moans tossed into the air wantonly. But, much to her surprise, it was a dimly lit room with chaise lounges and people talking quietly. Surrounding three of the four walls were doors. At least ten of them to each wall, all red, and painted with the same runes she'd seen on the tables from the dance floor. Couples, some with masks, some without, and some a mixture, could be seen chatting or necking with each other. All in all, it was rather tame.

She gave a small laugh. "Is this what the fuss is about? I expected… more."

"This is just the lounge," Malfoy said to her, his grip on her hand never ceasing, "It's the rooms that'll get you."

"The rooms?" She looked around to each of the doors. "Why the runes? I don't recognize them."

"The runes are made up by the owner of the establishment. Complete gibberish to someone on the outside." He tugged her along until they stood in front of one with a curved U shape adorned with four dots on both sides. "But to the nightlife, each one holds a different meaning."

"So this one?" She pointed to the marking.

"Kink." A smirk lit up on his face as he watched her face pale. "If you sit at one of the tables down below with this marking, you're telling others you're adventurous."

Hermione nodded in understanding, surprised she couldn't have figured out this system herself. Luna had been very right about one thing: rules and procedures were this club's cup of tea. "I see." Not wanting to seem shy (like she felt on the inside), she glanced about at the doors and said, "How do you know when one is occupied?"

"The rune will glow."

Well, that _did_ make sense. "What rune did you three have at your table?"

A soft hand came up and touched her shoulder, startling her. She jerked around and came face-to-face with Pansy Parkinson, giggling as a drunken Blaise Zabini kissed along the back of her neck. "I wondered where you two had run off to," she mused, reaching back to run her fingers over Blaise's shaved head.

"I… oh! No. No, we're not- It's not like that-"

"It isn't?" Zabini's head shot up. "Pansy, maybe she'd like to join us?"

Pansy eyed her up and down, shrugging. "I don't usually besmirch myself with dirty blood," she gave Hermione a wink, "But I suppose for her, I'd make an exception. Only if she'd play the sub."

"Sub?" Hermione squeaked out, backing one of her heels into Malfoy's toe. He hissed at her, tugging her off of his foot and, inadvertently, into his chest. "I… I don't…"

"Well, why'd you come up here at all, then?" The ebony-haired witch scoffed. "Oh, don't tell me it was for research? Draco, your charity work knows no bounds."

Charity? Oh, the nerve of this woman! And to think Hermione had thought she'd changed at all! "I came up here because I wanted to be." She scowled.

"Oh? Is that so?" Pansy crossed her arms. "Alright then, Granger. Which door will you choose?"

She heard Malfoy chuckle behind her, obviously enjoying the corner Hermione had found herself in. "Yes, Granger," he teased, "Which door _will_ you choose?" She turned her head towards him and shot him a venomous glare, to which he blew her a mock kiss. "Time's ticking, love. Or maybe you'd like to change your mind and join Pans and Blaise?"

Panic spread through her, and in a moment of pure bravery (and stupidity), Hermione yanked Malfoy near the closest, non-glowing door with a rune painted like a lowercase 't' with two dots at the bottom. She had no idea what it meant, but anything would be better than whatever Zabini and Parkinson had in mind. She shot Pansy a smirk as she jerked the door open and pulled Malfoy in behind her.

* * *

She came face-to-face with something out of a horror film. While the center of the room held a beautiful chaise lounge and an elegant throw rug, the walls lined up in the small, black-walled room were adorned with unfamiliar items hanging from hooks on the wall. Some were made of leather, some of metal, and others a combination thereof. "What the Hell kind of room is this?" she whispered breathlessly.

Malfoy shut the door behind them, and the buzzing from the common room muted in an instant. "You just had to pick this room, didn't you?" He shook his head, chuckling.

"What does that mean?" She nudged around to the objects on the wall. "This, in no way, could be considered sexual."

"Care to make a wager on that?" He wagged his finger in front of her face. "Don't assume to know unless you have all the details, Granger. I thought you knew better than that." He stepped past her and removed the mask from his face – Hermione found that breathing suddenly became rather difficult. Had… had he always been that handsome? Or was he just uglier as a teenager? Because she did not remember him to be _that_ strong-jawed or his cheekbones to be _so_ prominent. My, what a mask could take away! His smirk fit him properly, now -even more than it did before, and he used it to his advantage as he gestured to the wall at his left. "Bondage room."

" _Bondage_?"

"I imagine Blaise will never leave you alone until he's had his way with you, now. This is one of his favorites."

"I would never stoop so low."

"Oh, so you're above all that, now? Maybe Pansy was right. You are a charity case. Tell me, how long are we to stand here before I'm to pretend something went on between us?"

"Don't flatter yourself into thinking that I'd want anyone to believe you and I fooled around." She crossed her arms, watching him as he shrugged and made his way to the chaise lounge and took a seat. He spread an arm across the back, widening his legs into a comfortable, masculine position. Then, Malfoy leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"You're all talk, Granger."

"You think so?"

"I know so." He tapped his foot leisurely. "You pretend that you're frightened of this room, but I happened to notice the X on your hand hasn't lit up once. So, either you are terribly clueless, or you're actually intrigued by the idea of bondage."

"Ha." She rolled her eyes. "I am _not_."

"Bet on it?"

"What is it with you and bets?" She watched him lift his head back up to stare at her challengingly. "I'm not interested. You're out of your mind if you think I am."

"That so?" He pushed off of the lounge and made his way up to her, asserting his face into her personal space. "Tell me, Granger, what would you say if I bent you over that lounge over there, pushed up your skirt, laid you across my lap and smacked your ass so hard that I had you dripping wet between your legs?"

Her breathing hitched as Hermione's mind painted an elaborate picture of her rosy red cheeks being thwarted over and over by Malfoy's large, masculine hand as beads of sweat dripped down the side of her cheek. "I'd say you'd need to be locked away in a padded cell, because that's the last thing I'd ever want."

She saw his hand go for the wrist of her left hand, and she made to step back, but he was quicker. His long fingers wrapped around it and tugged her hand up between them. "Oh, look at that. Caught in your own lie." Hermione's cheeks flooded with warmth, and she was sure they'd turned a lovely shade of magenta as Malfoy tugged her closer, nose to nose. "Repressed, much?"

Hermione jerked herself away from him and cast her eyes elsewhere. There was no way she was interested in any of this. _No way_ , she thought as her eyes trailed over the leather she now identified as whips, and the metal she realized were handcuffs. It all shifted into focus -there were shackles, manacles, chains, fetters with metal bars between them. But what if… what if she was? She'd never even given it a second thought before until the moment Malfoy had thrown her hand up in her face. She should feel uncomfortable, shouldn't she? Then again, once you've been tortured and cut for information when you were but a child, the idea of anything less than that seemed tame. Bellatrix Lestrange's face worked its way to the forefront of her mind, and she shivered.

"I'm not repressed," she whispered, after a time, turning her gaze on him. "It's simply that nothing frightens me anymore."

"That so?" He stared at her, calm; calculating. He gestured around the room. "Pick something."

"What?"

"You say nothing frightens you. Pick something from the wall, and we'll try it out." He kept an even face as he measured her expression of surprise.

"You're _married_."

"Wonderful deduction."

"I mean - _you're married_. M.A.R.R.I.E.D."

"And you can spell, too! What a catch." His voice dribbled with sarcasm.

She scowled. "How would you not consider that cheating on your wife?"

"Because," he said simply, "She and I have an understanding. What happens here is left here. Easy as that."

"Is that why you'd be willing to look past who _I_ am? Are you _that_ depraved for sexual conquests?"

"Obviously, you are, as well, or you wouldn't have pulled me in here."

"Ha!" she gave a short, crisp laugh. "How do you figure?"

Malfoy stepped forward, bringing himself back into her personal bubble as he brought his fingers up and stroked down the side of her cheek. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, tension built in Hermione's throat as she forgot how to breathe; her eyelids fluttered open and shut like butterfly wings, and she licked her lips absentmindedly. God, it had been too long since she'd been touched in any way that resembled affection. He noticed because his lips tugged up in a satisfied smirk as he let his fingers roam down her neck, her collarbone, her breast, her stomach... "I'll make it easy for you," he whispered, "I'll pick something out. You go wait on the lounge like a good little pet."

"I'm not your pet," she seethed, bringing her eyes back to focus. There, she glared up at him, tensing her jaw. "I'm not your anything."

"Yet." He winked. "But I have a feeling, by the end of the night, you'll be singing a different tune." His hand curled around her waist and grabbed her bum. Hermione gasped, making to move away when his other hand came out and ran down the side of her arm with delicate strokes. Fingers gripped possessively around the meat of her ass cheeks, and he yanked her forward until she was chest to chest with him, her hands trying to form a barrier as they rested against his sculpted abdomen. Even the confines of his white button up couldn't hide the firmness beneath. His silver-flecked eyes glistened into her earth-toned ones, commanding attention. "You have five seconds to decide if you want to leave this room. After that, you're mine. And you're to do whatever I say when I say it. Five seconds, Granger. Four…"

Oh, sweet sugar quills, what had she gotten herself into?

"Three."

Run, Hermione! Run for the door!

"Two."

But why? Why should she run? His eyes were so intoxicating. They were better than two bottles of whiskey at the end of a heated day at the office…

"One."

She knew she should get going. She had but a second to back away, leave out the door, and never come back again. One second to go home to her flat, curl up with a good book, and frig herself to the image of those icy gray eyes melting the exterior of her resolve to leave. One second to go back to being Hermione Granger.

The second had disappeared, and her heart quickened in realization as Malfoy stroked the back of his fingers down the side of her face once more. "Good girl." There was a change in the atmosphere as something in Hermione's head _clicked_. She was standing in a nightclub, in a bondage room, with Draco Malfoy, and she, by default, had given him complete control over her. Why would she do such a thing? Where was her head? When had this night taken such a drastic turn from drinks with her friend to alone with a dangerous ex-Death Eater? What would Ron say? _Bollocks to Ron_. It wasn't his choice to make; it was hers. And, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she found herself rooted to her spot on the floor as Malfoy stepped back and gave an approving sweep over her form. "I always knew your bravery was why you were sorted into Gryffindor. Despite your wit, you still have a rebellious streak I've always found quite endearing. -Go to the lounge. Now."

Hermione was vaguely aware her feet moved - she soon realized she stood in front of the lengthy sofa, looking back over her shoulder for sanction. When he nodded, she took a seat, folding her arms in her lap and sitting like a ridged statue. Malfoy's dress shoes clacked across the floor as he tucked his hands behind his back and strolled around to each wall, observing the different items with interest. He took his time skimming over each and every one, occasionally looking back to her with a foreboding smirk. Hermione's hands clenched and unclenched, but still; no X glowed red on the back of her hand. So, why was her heart racing?

"I.."

His eyes snapped over to her, and she fell silent. Tension built within her vocal chords, rendering her speechless. She swallowed, trying to alleviate the pressure, but all it did was make it difficult to breathe.

"Have you ever been tied up, Granger?" he asked. She found the will to shake her head side to side. He turned back to the wall. "So we'll build slowly." He reached his hand out and brought down two latex gloves, shiny and red. Part of the fingertips were missing, Hermione observed, as they would only cover to one's knuckles. "Put these on," he told her, tossing them over. Hermione caught them in the air, scrunching her face up in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because I said so. And because you'll like what comes next."

She turned the gloves over in her hands, noting the soft, faux fur on the inside. With a roll of the eyes, she slipped them on, and they magically formed around her hands until they were an exact fit. They only came a bit above the wrists when they finished their resizing. "Now wha-" she began, but cut herself off when the gloves jerked of their own accord, sending her hands flying back behind her spine before they slammed her wrists into each other. "Oh!" She gasped, trying to struggle free, but the gloves stayed side by side, never yielding. "That's cheating!"

"Is it?" he smirked.

"How will you know if I'm uncomfortable, then, if you can't see my X?"

He raised an eyebrow and strolled up behind the chaise lounge, setting one hand, and then the other, on her shoulders. "I have a confession to make. The magic used in that branding _douses_ the moment you step foot in one of these rooms. So tell me, _little lion_ , how does it feel to know that you're no longer in control?"

Hermione writhed against the gloves' restraints. "You lying, cheating git!"

"I never lied. I omitted the truth."

"That's lying!"

"No, that's being a Slytherin."

"You let me go this instant, Malfoy! You do it, or else I'm going to—to…" Soft lips feasted on the skin of her neck with tender attention, and she forgot what her next words were. All she could feel was his mouth leaving brazen kisses and soft licks from the base of her jaw all the way down to the crook of her neck. She tried to shrug him off, but his hands kept her firmly planted until Malfoy had her sighing and groaning just the way he wanted. His teeth bit down along her pulse point before he licked a line up to her earlobe and whispered, "You were going to _what_ , Granger?" He nibbled along the shell of her ear. "Go on. _Do_ tell."

"I…" She bit down on her lip, swallowed up by the shimmer of heat that coated her skin. "I don't remember."

"Like I said. All talk." He kissed her cheek sensually. "Care to get a bit braver, princess?"

Her head lay in a fog, and she struggled against all odds to come out of it. She blinked a few times, taking in the view of the room, and settled on, "I'd have to be brave for the both of us, I'd imagine. You're rather cowardly to tie me up."

"It's a _bondage_ room, Granger. -Why did I expect you to be compliant?" She couldn't see it, but she was sure he rolled his eyes. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear before. You're mine now." He snapped his fingers, and a thick strap of silk flew off of the wall and into his hand. "If you insist on using that mouth of yours to defy me, I'm going to have to insist on gagging it up."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh. I would. I've been waiting to do this for a _very_ long time…"

"Do? What are you-?" Hermione started but was cut off when he brought his hands out and slipped the strip of cloth into her mouth before tying it tightly behind her head with precision. How many times had he done this? She hoped that this material was sanitary…

"Oh, look at that. You seem so much more attractive already. Silent." He stalked around the chaise lounge and stood in front of her, smirking. "Don't act like you're not getting a thrill out of this."

To spite him, she narrowed her eyes, although as she clamped her legs together, she did notice a dampness that hadn't been there before. She breathed heavily through her nose, trying to calm her senses as her legs shook.

"You look nervous, Granger," he teased as he took a seat next to her. "Why? It's only me." The hand closest to her latched onto her thigh, pulling the material of her dress up and revealing the flesh of her upper leg. Her body reacted instinctively, twitching her leg open slightly. Malfoy seized the opportunity and slipped his fingers down the inside of her thigh, petting it with gentle circles. "Care to play a game of chicken?"

Hermione shook her head, but he ignored her.

"I'll tell you what. You make it to the end of the game without moaning, and I'll take it as a sign that you aren't enjoying yourself, and I'll let you go. Sound fair?" He flickered his eyes up to hers, enjoyment written in his blown pupils. Then he tugged her leg out and trailed his fingers up the incline of her thigh, crawling a pace up to her underwear. Hermione felt her leg quake uncontrollably against the pads of his fingers, and he chuckled in a low, gravelly tone. "Does it feel good, pet?" She felt a brush of his thumb against the hem of her panties, and he clicked his tongue. "Well, that settles it. I was concerned for a moment you weren't into this, but _Merlin_ , Granger, you're soaked all the way through." His fingers slid up and down her underwear, slickened with her arousal. Against her better judgment, Hermione felt a crawl of sound build in her throat and clamped it tight to keep from giving in.

Unexpectedly, Malfoy pulled his fingers away from her and, with a quick movement, yanked her down across his lap on her stomach. Hermione's face hit the soft cushions, and her feet tucked up behind her automatically as Malfoy bunched up the back of her dress over her backside and tugged her underwear down to the middle of her thighs. Cold air rushed between her legs, countering the heat of her, now, pulsing center. She made to push her legs together, but Malfoy slipped his hand between them and rested his fingers along the nub of her clit, rendering her still. "You're practically dripping. And I haven't even touched you, yet. Do you want me to touch you, _Hermione_?"

It was the first time in her adult life that she'd heard him utter her given name and the way he purred it sent a shiver up her spine. All of her resolve to hold back crumbled, and she nodded her head, desperately. Yes. Yes, she did want him to touch her.

"You do?" he chuckled, tapping his index finger along her clit. "Are you sure?"

'Yes!' Hermione groaned, but it came out as a muffled, "Ess!" instead.

"Positive?"

Her head bobbed up and down, and she wiggled her hips for more contact. Malfoy, much to her dismay, removed his hand from her and hoisted her back upright on the lounge to sit on her haunches. His face was a shade pinker than it had been before, and there was a bulge in the front of his trousers. Slowly, he reached up, untied the gag, and, without warning, pulled her lips down to his. Hermione gasped into the warmth of his mouth, finding it softer and less intimidating than she would have imagined. His kiss was firm and yet gentle, like fire and ice resting in the same set of powerful lips. His fingers stroked down the sides of her face as his tongue licked against her lower lip. Eventually, Hermione gave in, and his tongue met hers in a dazzling display of ownership and submission. She tried to fight back, but the soft caress of his tongue as it brushed against hers set a fire in her belly, convincing her to concede. She gave a low, sensual moan as he pulled his tongue back to his own mouth and caught her upper lip between his teeth. He doctored it with a swipe of his tongue, then moving on to her lower lip to bite down before he bestowed the same, gentle lick to that one as well. He withdrew his face from hers, reached around, slipped the gloves off of her hands, and caught her as she fell forward from loss of balance. Her head rested in the crook of his neck once again tonight, and she inhaled the scent of sandalwood and fresh soap.

"Next Friday," he whispered in her ear, "Come back. Find me. Can you do that, princess?"

Hermione nodded slowly, the frustration between her legs built up to an uncomfortable level. She wanted -no, needed release. She needed it so urgently.

"Good. One condition, though. If you touch yourself between now and then, this ends."

"I…" She found her voice again, pulling her hands up to his shoulders and pushing herself off of him to look him in the eyes. "What… why?"

"I don't need to give you a reason." He rose to stand and pulled her up with him. Hermione staggered to her feet, and Malfoy kissed her atop the forehead. "So, next Friday?"

She nodded meekly.

"What a good pet." He released her from his hold and strode across the room to the door. "Come now, Granger. I'm not going to leave you in here all by your lonesome. Blaise might try to slip in."

Hermione blinked once, taking in his words. Then she, discretely, fixed her underwear and followed him out the door. The common room was far less crowded -how long had they been stowed away? Malfoy slipped his mask back on his face and gave her a wink just as Luna emerged from another rune-marked door. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she carried her shoes in her hands. "Hermione?" She broke out into a devilish smile. "Oh, my word! I knew you'd find someone to-" Her eyes caught sight of the man next to her friend, and, much to Hermione's astonishment, she nodded once and said, "Well, isn't that interesting?"

Malfoy cast her an expression Hermione couldn't quite read -it almost looked embarrassed, but she couldn't be sure.

"I've got to go," he said, turning his attention to Hermione. "Remember what I said." He nodded to her once before exiting through the red door, no doubt on his way back down to find his wife.

Luna giggled, uncontrollably, into her hand. "Look at you, Miss Granger!"

"Luna, you can't tell anyone."

"Well, of course, I'm not going to tell," her friend told her, hurt flashing across her face. "What happens at Bond, stays at Bond. I'm just impressed, is all."

"Impressed? Did you see who I was with?"

"Yes, I did."

"Aren't you appalled… or shocked… or… something else besides 'impressed'?"

Luna laughed again, throwing an arm around Hermione's shoulder. "I'm going to let you figure this one out on your own. I'm sure he'll tell you in time."

"Tell me?" Hermione asked as her friend led her towards the exit. "Tell me what? Luna, you can't leave the conversation on that note."

"I can, and I will." Luna grinned from ear to ear. "But I tell you what. Let's go back to my place, and I'll make us a nice cup of tea and you can tell me all about it."

"I thought what happens at Bond, stays at Bond."

"Oh, it does." Luna winked. "I was only testing you."

Hermione was led out of the club by her friend, and when they arrived at the Apparition spot, she glanced back at the black bricked building, pensive. What had Luna meant back there? What did she know about Malfoy? Would she really return next week? She shook her head and focused. She could think about these things when she arrived back home, safe under the covers of her bed. There, she could ponder on the events of this evening, and why she allowed Draco Malfoy to touch her in ways that she only read about in romance novels.

"By the way, Luna, I'm pretty sure your horrible girlfriend spiked my drink…"


	2. Part 2

**More Kink. More lemons. You've been warned. THANK YOU WAYMAY FOR EDITING THIS! 3**  
 **~A.**

 _By the way, WayMay and I have a fic! Called Empire, found under WayMay penname. Please, go check it out and revie_ w! She worked really hard on it, and I think you all will be impressed.

 **"Take Me To Church" by Hozier**

* * *

"You came back."

His voice sounded surprised, but his eyes told a different story. He sat sprawled back against a corner lounge chair in the very corner of Tier One, dressed in casual slacks and charcoal button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, showing off his _Morsmordre_ Mark. On his face sat that tell-all domino mask as he smirked up at her from her feeble stance at the other end of a coffee table that separated them. An array of empty containers sat on top of it, and judging by the way Blaise and Pansy were going at it with their tongues next to him, everyone had gotten their fill of alcohol. Malfoy didn't look at all troubled as Pansy began to dry-rut against Blaise's lap, causing the lounge to shake ever so slightly.

Hermione patted down her blue pencil skirt, nervously trying to dry the clamminess of her hands. Why did she come back? What good could possible come from it? Curiosity, it seemed, was a drug that she became addicted to as a child. Perhaps that's why she couldn't leave well enough alone. She knew coming here meant she was attracted to him, and that's why she walked through those doors alone to herself that Malfoy intrigued her was one thing. Admitting it to Luna? A whole other ballpark.

"I did."

"Good girl." His complimentary words sent a shiver through her. He patted his lap, and her eyes widened. "Come. Sit."

"No, thank you." She shook her head; her body silently keened in response. Godric, she was being stubborn, but it was bold of him to ask it of her. Didn't he know what kind of a person she was? Maybe that's why he did it. _Because_ he knew.

"I wasn't asking." His smirk dropped, and he spread his legs wider, getting comfortable. "Now. Before I grow bored."

Hermione marched tersely around the table and stood before him, hands on her hips. "I came. That should be enough for you." He waited, expressionless, until, eventually, she gave in and awkwardly turned around, taking a seat on his legs. She could literally feel the smirk on the back of her neck as his hand wrapped around her torso and tugged her back against him, fitting her like a jigsaw piece to his abdomen and pelvis.

"I love your outfit," he breathed against her ear at the same time he placed a hand on her knee. "Did you dress up just for me?"

Her heart fluttered as her cheeks flushed with heat. Damn it. This was the reason why she came, wasn't it? So she could hear sultry voice whisper into her eardrum. She couldn't get it out of her head since last weekend, and had taken to working overtime just to keep from going home where she would fantasize. Deep down, Hermione knew something was lit within her the moment his countdown ended that night. Admitting it had taken her nearly half the week and the other half was spent imagining all of the things that might turn up tonight. She wanted to know about the runes, the doors, and what it all meant. And she wanted Malfoy to be the one to tell her.

"Why?" she asked, turning her head to him. He looked confused. She rephrased, "Out of everyone here, why me?"

Ignoring the fact that she breezed past his question, Malfoy gave a shrug, kissing her shoulder. "Why not you?"

"Wow." She grabbed down to his hand on her leg and pushed it off, and then she crossed her arms. "Don't I just feel _so_ special?" All week, she thought maybe she had been. Special, that was. Out of all the girls in Bond, he asked her to go to the second tier with him.

"Don't get pissy," he cooed in her ear, pushing her hair to the side so that he could brush his lips across her neck.

"Luna told me something."

His kissing came to a stop. "Did she now?" He didn't sound pleased.

Hermione closed her eyes, fisting the edging of her skirt and concentrating on her next words. "She said that she's never seen you on tier two before last week."

* * *

" _Ever?" Hermione asked, sipping her cup of herbal tea next to Luna, her feet tucked under her to hide the fact that she was damper than a bayou in her knickers. When she closed her eyes, she could see his dangerous smirk and hear his sultry laugh._

" _Not that I can recall," said Luna. She snugged deeper within her blanket, looking more like a food-truck burrito by the moment._

" _Is that why you acted so odd when you saw him?"_

" _Hmm?" Luna smiled. "Oh, no. Not at all."_

" _Well then what was it?"_

" _I told you. If he wants to share, he will. Until then, my lips are shut."_

* * *

"That so…"

"Yes."

He chuckled darkly, resuming his tender ministrations on her neck. "You never did answer my question."

"And you didn't answer mine."

"Why _you?_ "

"Yes."

His arm draped around her stomach, tightened, pulling her as close as she could possibly get to him, while his other hand came up to her neck, wrapping his long fingers around it but not grabbing. He simply followed the length of it down to her collarbone and then moved it around to rest on her shoulder. There, he began to massage the tense muscles. Her eyes closed, and she felt her mouth part open in response. His fingers felt so wonderful as they rubbed small circles into her shoulder and aching joints. "Because I've always wondered…"

"Wondered?" she repeated his word back to him, eyes still shut tight.

He moved his hand to the edge of her shoulder and sunk his teeth into the crook of her neck. She gasped, hands going instinctively to wrap around his arm that held her to him, and she shivered. His teeth stayed there for a time before they released, and he licked at the tender skin. "-What my given name sounds like on your tongue." His tongue ran all the way up the length of her neck until he made it to her earlobe, where he nibbled playfully. "Or how you would scream it underneath me."

Was she hearing this right? Did Draco Malfoy, who sought out nothing but pureblood status, really just admit to coveting her?

She shifted restlessly in his lap, accidently pushing the back of her bum against his groin. She heard him inhale, arm constricting around her impulsively. "How long?" she asked.

"Like I said. Always."

His words held, with them, a weight that Hermione found herself slowly suffocating underneath. There grew a tension in her stomach, and she glanced up to the bar, wishing she could manage a shot of something to settle her nerves. But, just like last week, Luna's favorite bartender was in attendance, so Hermione dared not approach. She guessed she would have to do this the old fashioned way; with deep breathing and fidgeting.

"There's no way," she said, moving her face to the side to look at him -but she hadn't realized how close he was, and her nose brushed against his cheek. He smirked in response. "I mean to say, you couldn't have wanted me. You hated me. We hated each other."

"Hate is a powerful word," he taunted, turning her sideways on his lap and placing her arms around his neck. "I'd like to think of it as our attempts to keep the unresolved sexual tension at bay, what with the War and our parents being who they were. But the War is over."

She gulped. "I suppose it is." She found his eyes in hers, digging in and gripping tight like talons into her soul. Handsome, gray talons…

"And we're adults now."

"I suppose we are." Whoo, was it hot in here, or was that just between Hermione's legs?

"Two _consenting_ adults." He pulled her left arm from around his neck and held up the back of it to show her that her red X did not glow. "So tell me, Granger. What sort of kink are you into?"

All of the color drained from her face. "Kink?"

"Yes. Everyone has some kinkiness to them. -For Pansy and Blaise, it's having an audience." He motioned to the side, where Blaise and Pansy could be seen grinding into each other as their mouths battled for dominance. She'd nearly forgotten they were there, being so enthralled by Malfoy. His voice brought her back around from staring at the hot-and-heavy couple. "So what's yours?"

"I…" Her face turned back to his, and she shook her head. "I don't know."

"Didn't you and Weasley ever try anything daring?"

"If by daring you mean putting in a quickie nearly every time we did it," she quipped. When she realized what she said, her eyes turned to saucers and she sputtered out, "I… I mean… I don't know why I told you that."

"Because you know you can trust me, pet." He bit his lower lip, trailing his eyes down to her own soft, coral colored mouth.

"No, I don't think that's it at all. I don't trust you. Never have."

"Just as well," he mused, drawing his face closer to hers, "But you should."

"Trust is a thing that's earned, Malfoy. Not given freely."

"Draco." He licked his lips. "Call me Draco."

"Alright… Trust is a thing that's earned, _Draco_."

He visually shuddered, closing his eyes. When they came back open, there was a fire lit behind them. "Kiss me."

He didn't give her time to think it over or respond; his hand went up to the back of her hair and tugged her down to him, seizing a kiss made the entire first tier melt away. His tongue snaked hungrily across her lips, ordering her to let him in. She did. He tasted of honey-wine and peach schnapps and the devil's intentions. Hermione felt herself melding into him as she tugged him closer, hands going into his hair as his hands traveled around to her backside and prompted her up on her knees. He shifted her until she straddled him, her skirt pooling up her upper thighs until her lacy white underwear was in his view. She gasped, meaning to sit upright and tug her skirt back down, but he pulled her forward, right against the firmness in his pants, a hand cupping each of her ass cheeks from under the skirting.

Eventually, they both had to come up for air and found that Pansy and Blaise had stopped eating each other's faces long enough to watch Hermione and Draco go at it. Hermione's eyes met Pansy's amused expression and Blaise's lustful gaze; they didn't look at all appalled by their friend's choice in partner for the evening. If anything, they seemed envious.

"Blimey," Blaise muttered, eyeing Hermione's disheveled skirt. Embarrassed, she went to pull off of Malfoy, but he looped his fingers through her panties, threatening to pull them off should she attempt it. Pansy swatted Blaise on the side of the cheek; not hard, but enough to get his attention. "Oi!"

"Draco made it perfectly clear the mudblood's off limits."

Ignoring the fact that she'd been referred to in the most insulting sense, she wondered: had he really told his friends she was to be left alone? She didn't know whether to thank him or tell him off. Either one sounded too good for him.

"Meant no disrespect," said Blaise to Malfoy, "Just admiring."

"By all means," Draco smirked challengingly, "But if you touch her, you might find a letter in your boss's post tomorrow all about that affair you've been having with his wife."

"So now you've resorted to threatening your friends?" Hermione cast him a serious glare.

"When it comes to what's mine, yes." His hands gripped harder.

"I'm not yours."

"Of course you are."

For the first time, the back of Hermione's hand lit up with that infamous scarlet X in reference to Malfoy. His hands immediately left her, slipping them back down to his sides. She climbed off of his lap, settling in on the spot between him and Blaise. "I don't belong to you, Malfoy. Don't forget that."

"Ooh!" Pansy sniggered into her hand. "She's a feisty one, ay, Draco?"

Malfoy looked thoroughly pissed off. His lips curled down in an unamused sneer, and his eyes narrowed challengingly at her. "My apologies," he said curtly, not a drop of humility in his tone. He crossed his arms like a child and stared off at the dance floor.

"Ignore him," said Pansy, legs still wrapped around Blaise's hips. "He's always pissy when he doesn't get his way."

"I am not," Malfoy snapped indignantly.

"How long have I known you? Us both?" She turned her head to Blaise. "He's a stick in the mud, isn't he, pookey?"

"A right git when things don't go as planned." He smiled to Hermione. "I wouldn't anger him too much, though. Malfoys have tempers something awful."

"Do not." Malfoy jutted his chin up in the air.

"Right. Well, we'll best be getting off." Pansy winked at her choice of words. "If you decide that you grow bored of your blonde play-thing, find yourself a suitable partner and join us upstairs?" Draco audibly snarled, eyes still set forward and chin set out. Hermione cast Pansy and Blaise a 'you're leaving me here with him like this?' look, and Pansy added, "His weak spot is right under his jaw, below the ears." She gave her another wink, hopped of Blaise's lap, and tugged him up to stand. "Ta-ta!" She waved goodbye to her irritated friend and then to Hermione before dragging Blaise along by the hand towards the staircase. Blaise looked back at Hermione with a forlorn expression like he really wanted to get a chance to get in _her_ knickers instead. Eventually, he accepted his fate about halfway across the dance floor and turned to his partner, smacking her hard on the ass.

Hermione didn't know why, but she almost appreciated Pansy's attempt at advice.

"Are you going to sit there all night with that sneer on your face?" she asked Malfoy, turning to him. His nostrils flared as he inhaled. "I can't help it if you made me feel uncomfortable. You know that, right? Luna says the X reacts to your body's hormonal levels and chemistries."

"Hmph."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake." She crossed her arms as well, and draped one leg over the other, mirroring his hard expression. Offhandedly, she added, "You act like it's never happened to you before."

"What hasn't?" he muttered.

"Someone saying no to you."

"Maybe they haven't."

"Until now," she jeered, and his eyes jerked over to find hers.

"You really want to keep egging it on?"

"Egging what on?"

"Your punishment." He smirked.

"Punishment?"

"Yes."

"For what?"

"For pissing me off."

"You are, by far, the biggest man-child I've ever met." She pointed an accusing finger at him. "And I'm including my ex-husband in that."

"Don't ever cage me in a category with that turnip-faced flobberworm."

Hermione couldn't help it; she laughed. The insult caught her off guard, and she burst out into full-bellied laughs, throwing a hand out onto his lap to steady herself. Malfoy raised a cool eyebrow, still forcing himself to look agitated, though the corners of his mouth tugged up ever so slightly. "Haha… oh wow… that… thank you. For that." She swiped at a tear with her other hand, smiling up at him. "His face does resemble a turnip, doesn't it?"

Malfoy's face broke its glare and turned into an amused smile. "A bit, yes." The red X faded away, and his body relaxed. "Feeling laxer around me, I see."

"It was funny."

"I believe that's the first time you've shared that sentiment towards my humor."

"You've never been funny before."

He stuck out his tongue childishly. "You never answered my question."

"What question?"

"What sort of kink are you interested in?"

"I've told you. I don't know."

"Of course you do." He uncrossed his arms and tucked them behind his head.

"Well, what sort are you into?" she asked.

He licked his lips. "Dominance."

"So you like being in control? Never would have guessed," she quipped.

"Looked to me like you enjoy submission. Or did I read the wetness between your legs wrong?"

She blushed. "I… I've never done anything like that before. But I did enjoy it."

"Thought so." He nudged over to one of the rune marked tables. "That one, there, is for toys." He motioned to another. "You'll recognize that one as bondage." He pointed his toe towards a further out table with two runes facing each other. "That one's roleplay. -And that one's edgeplay."

"Edgeplay?"

"Like BDSM, but... darker. Choking. Knife play. That sort of thing." The way he spoke sounded so casual compared to the things spilling from his mouth, as if he was discussing Quidditch. "There's also a rune for pet play."

"Pet play?"

"How vanilla are you, Granger? Do I need to spell it out?" He rolled his eyes. "It's just the name sounds. Pets and owners."

"Oh." She blinked. "You call me pet."

"I mean it differently."

She didn't want to push her luck, so she ignored asking him what he meant instead and focused on a group of men gathered around a table with one woman in a lengthy, red gown. "That one. What's that?"

"Gangbang."

"Oh!" She put her hand up to her mouth, laughing out of nervousness. "Is that different than an orgy?"

"Much." He didn't explain further, simply stating, "But we won't be doing that, so it doesn't matter."

Not that she wanted to (she most definitely didn't), but she had to ask, "Why not?"

"Because, as I've said: you're mine. I don't share well with others. When we go up to that second tier tonight, I don't plan on anyone else getting their hands close to you."

" _When_? That confident?"

"Oh, yes." He nodded, blowing her a mock kiss. "For all of your prude nature, I know you can't resist one room."

"Which one is that?"

He smirked. "To put it simply, the romance room."

She quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go on."

"Soft bed. Soft music. Just… soft." He reached out and tenderly drew a line down her arm with his fingertips, watching her as she closed her eyes. "I bet Weasley was terrible at making love to you."

Her eyes snapped open. "What would you know of making love, Malfoy?"

"Married. Remember?" He pointed to the mask. "And I told you, it's Draco."

She looked away from him, insulted. How dare he assume to know her own love life? How dare he be correct?

"I want to make you an offer."

"I'm listening."

"Five rooms. You pick five of the kinky rooms to try, and I'll give you the best goddamn sensual love-making you've ever encountered."

She mulled over his words, taking into account his promise to make love to her. How could he possibly do that? He didn't love her, and that was a requirement. _Hence the name_. But perhaps he could pretend? Could he put on such an act that she could forget he felt nothing for her but physical attraction? If he could, it might be worth it to experience.

"Define 'best goddamn sensual love-making experience'."

His smirk widened, and he untucked his hands from behind his head to rest them on her knees before scooting closer to her. Gently, he skirted them up her thighs, around her hips, and tugged her directly next to him, nose to nose. "Close your eyes."

She did.

"Imagine us alone, tucked away in that room up there. Imagine your clothes, and mine, discarded on the floor." He let his hand move up her stomach to the bottom of her left breast, cupping underneath it but not touching it. "I gently lay you back against the bed, my hand cradling your head as you fall into the downy pillow top. My lips find your neck," he leaned forward, licking against her throat, "Your shoulder," he nibbled there next, "your breasts," his hand slipped up and massaged the fleshy bundle beneath her shirt and bra, "as I fit myself between your legs. You're dripping wet for me, aren't you, pet?"

"Y-Yes…" She sighed, picturing his words in her mind.

"I go slow, planting kisses all down your body. You squirm beneath my touch, but you love it. No one's touched you this way in forever. You beg me never to stop."

"Never…" Hermione repeated in a whisper, loving the imagery.

"My head finds a place between your thighs, and I lap at your pussy like it's my last meal. Maybe it is. Maybe it's all I'll ever want to eat again."

She had no words for him, only hands that grasped at his wrists as he fed her thought after filthy thought.

"You taste so good, pet. Do you want to taste yourself?"

"Yesss…"

The hand around her hip snaked down her thigh and between her legs. His fingers trailed a line up her wet, covered folds, slickened with her arousal. She forgot herself in that moment, that she was sitting in the back of a club, surrounded by potential onlookers. All that mattered was his fingers as they tucked underneath her knickers and slipped inside of her, suddenly. She gasped, eyes flying open, but he whispered, "Shhh…" and kissed her softly as he pumped two of his fingers into her center, stretching her. She hadn't been fingered in years. Hermione groaned contently into his mouth as he curled his fingers and touched the sensitive bundle of nerves that had her hips grinding against his hand. Malfoy licked a thin line up her lips before removing his fingers and bringing them up between them to show her how wet she was. Looking pleased, he sucked his middle finger clean and then slid his index finger across her lips. "Have a taste." Hermione stared up into his eyes and trailed her tongue up the length of his finger before taking it into her mouth. She loved the flavor of her juices as they mixed with the flavor of his skin. Malfoy's breathing became heavy as he watched her suckle his fingertip. "Damn it." He withdrew his finger from his mouth and stood up, pulling her along with him. "The offer. Do you accept?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Relief flooded his features, and he took her hand in his. "Good. Let's go find a room, shall we?"

* * *

'The Sensory Room.'

At least, that's what Draco said the rune meant. This room was much different than the bondage room. It was well lit with green walls on all sides and five trunks scattered about the room, and instead of a chaise lounge there was one, lonely wooden stool. The floors were black marble which reflected their images back in their vision as they walked across the threshold to the nearest trunk. Hermione pushed the top of it open, looking at the array of blindfolds and masks.

"Each one of these boxes represents a sense. Sight, for example." He walked over to another trunk, flicking his wand to make it open. Inside were feathers, crops, and nipple clamps, amongst others. "Touch."

Hermione walked over to another, smaller trunk and opened it. Inside were massage oils, fragrances, and lotions. This had to represent sense of smell.

"What do we start with, then?" she asked quietly, meeting his gaze.

"Why don't we start with taste?" He motioned to the stool. "Sit down."

As she approached the stool and took a seat, she muttered, "You really get off on telling people what to do, don't you?"

"No. Just you." He strolled over to the smallest trunk yet, sitting on a podium, and opened it. As he withdrew a small vial, he chewed on his bottom lip. "This will be fun."

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the container as he approached her.

"This is a desire draught. When I put a drop of this on your tongue, you'll taste the food that you most desire."

"Well, that doesn't seem too bad," she mused, smiling sweetly up at him. Malfoy undid the stopper and dipped his finger in, collecting a bit on the tip. Then he removed it, strolled up to her, and brushed it across her lips. Hermione allowed him to slide his finger across her tongue before he removed it and waited. She licked at her lips as a surge of flavors tickled her taste buds. "Mmm…" She closed her eyes, groaning happily. "It tastes like my mum's pumpkin pie."

Malfoy chuckled, capping the vial and slipping it into his pocket. Unexpectedly, he reached out, cupped her face, and dipped in for a slow, sultry kiss that had them both grasping at each other's hair. She could taste the pumpkin pie on his tongue, and it made her ravenous. She instinctually spread her legs open, and he gladly stepped between them as they waged a battle for dominance with their tongues. Coming to her senses, Hermione pulled away from the kiss, planting little ones along the tip of his chin before she asked, "What did it taste like for you?"

"Blueberry tart."

She smiled, looking over at one of her hands that somehow was working against her will as it stroked down the side of his cheek affectionately. "Just any blueberry tart, or…?"

"The ones from Honeydukes."

"Those are really yummy."

" _You're_ really yummy." He winked, and for a moment, she saw his guard down. He wasn't sneering, or quipping, or dominating. He was simply… Draco. And that was completely different from Malfoy. "Better than the tart." He chanced a glance at her hand stroking his face, and Hermione withdrew it immediately. He did not react, but simply took his gaze back to her. "What next, Granger?"

She looked around at the boxes, not wanting to be too forward too soon. She thought about it, and replied, "Sound? What do you think is in that one?" She hopped off the stool, brushing past him playfully as she made her way to the final box they had yet to open. Inside was a record player, and an assortment of music. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. "What's your poison, Draco?"

He smiled at the sound of his name, shrugging. "You select something, pet. I'm going to go check out another box for a moment."

"Alright," she replied, and for the first time, she didn't mind him calling her pet. It nearly sounded endearing, the way he said it. She ruffled through the selections, ranging from swing, to jazz, to sonatas, and finally, she came across something she approved of greatly. Her fingers tucked the record from its sleeve and she set it on the record player -the magic did the rest, and soon the cool selection of soft rock kicked around the room from all sides; not too loud, but enough to be noticed. Draco's -she supposed she could call him that now- head rose slowly as he dug through the fragrance trunk, and a cool grin graced his lips.

"You have excellent taste."

She smiled, feeling the blush settle across her face, and it dawned on her that, though she had only been in Malfoy's presence twice in the last six years, and both of them at Bond, she was falling into step with comfortability around him. She wondered why, but then thought she might as well not bother with trying to answer that question. She might never get her answer. And besides, there were more pressing details. Like, "What are you going to do with that?" She pointed to the bottle of oil in his hand.

He gave a nonchalant shrug. "Take off your clothes."

She blinked back at him as the sensual melody of electric guitar tickled her eardrums. "Why don't you?"

"Because I'm in control, and you're not." He set the bottle down on the stool and reached down to the bottom of her blouse. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." His voice reverberated his promise. "Come on, pet. For me." Hermione gave in when he tugged the material of her shirt up her stomach. She gave him complete control as he peeled it up and over her head, and then as he made work of her skirt and underwear. He gave an approving sound, telling her, "Stay in your heels. You look ravishing in them." Hermione, nervous, kicked her skirt and undies off of her ankles, being sure to keep the shoes; a pair of blue suede pumps. He circled her a few times, eyeing her body hungrily, before stopping in front of her. There, he reached up and flicked one of her nipples, making it pert. "Lovely." He repeated the motion to the other, earning a timid sigh from her. "Yes, you'll do nicely, _Hermione_." He cupped one of her breasts, and she closed her eyes. "Look at me." His voice was demanding, and it summoned her eyes back open, meeting his. "Good girl." He administered tender caresses to the mound in his grasp, jiggling her tit to watch it bounce. "Go over to the stool and hand me the oil, would you?"

He released her, then, and Hermione whimpered in response. His touch had been so intoxicating, she'd forgotten to breath, and now she gasped for breath as tiny dots formed in her vision. Merlin's beard, how long had she been holding her breath? -She did as she was told, making it quickly to the stool, catching her reflection in the marble flooring. She saw the curve of her breasts, the exposed skin of her stomach, the voluptuous curves of her hips. Did she really look so beautiful? Maybe the floor was spelled to make her feel that way. Or perhaps it had everything to do with the way Draco looked at her in that moment as she caught eyes with him upon reaching the stool.

She offered out the oil, and he took it with a smirk. "Now bend over the stool."

When Hermione stood rigid and did not comply, he rolled his eyes, grabbed her arm, spun her around, and bent her over the stool while twisting an arm behind her back. Hermione gasped, spreading her legs to balance herself as her stomach splayed across the wood. Draco kept his hold on her arm, pushing it further up her back and causing her to wince in pain. He pressed the zipper of his trousers into her backside, threatening.

"When I say do something, you do it. Do you understand?"

"Yes." She nodded, and he released her. Her free arm extended down the length of a stool leg, propping herself for balance as he stepped back and admired her. Her skin prickled with warmth as a firm hand came down across her ass cheek. "Mmmf…" She bit down on her lower lip.

"There's no red X to tell me to stop, pet. If anything we do gets to be too much for you, I want you to tell me."

"Alright."

"Did I frighten you when I twisted your arm?" He was quiet, but concerned.

Hermione slipped said arm down another stool leg and wrapped her fingers around the wood. "No."

"No, _Master_." He smacked her ass hard again, cupping his palm to add to the sound as it echoed throughout the room.

"No… Master."

"Good girl." He patted her ass and something cold and hard was placed across her tailbone. The oil container, she realized. "Don't move." He walked away from her, and Hermione struggled to keep the balance of the bottle secure. He walked over to the sight trunk, pulled out a soft, green blindfold with silk straps that tied in the back, and came back to stand in front of her. He crouched down to his haunches, smirking, and waved the blindfold in front of her face. "Ready?" She nodded, excitement building within her. He tethered the blindfold over her eyes and kissed her forehead. Hermione's legs ached with the want to move, but the bottle against her backside would fall, and for some reason she didn't want to seem so weak as to let it. She felt Malfoy caress her cheek with his palm, and then he rose to stand. His fingers skittered down her spine until he, finally, plucked the bottle off of her and gave her ass a harsh smack. Hermione groaned. The rhythmic drums and electric strum of the guitar from the record player added to the atmosphere as warm, silky liquid dripped down into the small of her back. Her back arched as the oil pooled into the dip of her spine. "So beautiful."

His words took her by surprise just as his hands did when they began to spread the oil down the sultry curves of her hips and ass cheeks. He massaged it in with vigorous detail, occasionally taking a slap to her bum and earning a moan from her. The scent of roses, lavender, and strawberries filled her lungs as the oil began to tingle with across her skin. "Mmm… it's warm."

"Yes, it is, pet." He dripped oil down her ass cheeks to let it trickle down her folds, and then his fingers were against her, rubbing the oil into her pussy lips and against her pulsing clit. Hermione threw her head back, mouth parted and breath unhinged as he slipped his thumb into her while gliding her clit between two of his fingers. "You're so tight. When was the last time someone unwound you?"

"I… I can't remember."

Draco withdrew his thumb and slipped his middle finger in, working her as he gripped the back of her thigh earnestly. Hermione shuddered under his touch, already feeling a slow build in her abdomen as the sensation of his finger took every last bit of resolve she thought she had. There was something so hypnotizing about being treated somewhere between a deity and something used only for his pleasure. With her eyes no longer in use, her other senses heightened. She could hear the raggedness of his breath as he slipped a second finger in, taking his time. Her legs shook under the weight of her commitment to stay perfectly still, as commanded, stomach pressed against the wooden seat and breasts exposed to the cool air. She could smell the fragranced oil, feel it as it tingled against her skin. She bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out as he hit her g-spot.

"Oh, God…" she muttered, catching her breath. He pushed his fingers deeper, and she came undone, letting out a gurgled gasp and then a low, thick moan. She heard him chuckle, bringing his fingers out of her to drive them back in again, rougher this time. Her head fell forward, and she arched her back as she moved her ass back against his fingers, silently begging for more.

"So tense," he whispered. "Were you a good girl this week, Hermione?" He smacked her ass. "Did you touch yourself?"

"No, Mmm…master. I didn't."

"Not once?"

"No."

His fingers rested inside of her as he leaned forward and trailed his tongue up her backbone. "Are you telling the truth?"

"Y-Yes…"

His mouth made it to her left shoulder blade, where he left a few bites. His fingers still did not move. He was silent for a time. "I believe you." He started back up, working her slowly, teasingly this time, all while taunting her verbally. "I bet you were tempted though, weren't you? You thought about at least playing with yourself once... In the shower. Or alone, on your bed. I bet you soaked the sheets thinking about all of the things I didn't do to you?"

"Yes, Master."

"How many times did you fantasize about me?"

"I'm… mmm… not sure… I lost count."

"What did think about?"

"You. Doing this. Right here." She bit back a loud moan as his thumb began to play against her clit. "Oh, _fuck_ …"

"Listen to that filthy mouth," he teased, "I think it could serve a better use, don't you?" His hand came down on her ass, the hardest one yet. Hermione yipped, and she was sure he smirked, even if she couldn't see it. "Tell me more about these erotic fantasies, Miss Granger. Did I fuck you?"

"Mmhmm…" she purred. "You bent me over my work desk."

The hand resting against her backside gripped her rougher, as if her words stirred a primal urge within him. "Did I? Go on."

"You tied me up, like last weekend. You pulled my hair, and you rode me hard." She felt his hand slip off of her ass cheek and up her spine, until it rested at the nape of her neck.

"Did I fuck you like this?" He quickened the pace with his fingers.

"Oh. Yes. Just like that."

"I bet you'd like to have this hard cock inside of you right now, wouldn't you?"

"Mmh… n-no…"

His hand grabbed a fistful of hair and tugged it back, jerking her head up. "No? Did you just tell me no, pet?" His grip tightened, and he yanked her upright off of the stool onto her feet, slipping his fingers out of her and shoving them into her mouth. "I don't do well with 'no.'"

Hermione smirked as she sucked the taste of herself off of his fingers and licked them clean. "I know, Master."

Who was she? Where had her old self gone? This new person who possessed her body became high off of the sensations that Draco Malfoy bestowed upon her, and she craved more.

He tugged at her hair and forced her down to her knees. "So you were purposefully defiant -to what? Get a rise out of me?"

"Yes, Master."

"You really want to be punished, don't you?"

"Yes." She nodded, excitement building within her. "Please. I've… I've been such a bad girl."

Malfoy made a pleased noise in the back of his throat and stalked around her, releasing her hair to trail his fingertips around her cheek down to her chin. He tilted her head upwards, then brushed the pad of his thumb against her lips. "You will never withhold from me again, am I clear?"

She swept her tongue across the nail of his thumb. "Yes, _Draco_." The simple act of defiance mixed with the pleasurable way she spoke his name conflicted him, and he tapped the finger under her chin as he thought about how to approach her insubordination.

"Say it again."

"What, Master?"

"You know what."

She bit on her lower lip seductively. " _Draco_."

"How does that name taste on your tongue, pet?"

"Like pumpkin pie."

He groaned audibly as Hermione's confidence soared. She reached up to his hand tucked under her chin and brought his index finger to her lips. There, she slipped it in and began to suck at it suggestively, tightening the pressure of her mouth as she let his finger slide down the back of her tongue and down her throat. She focused all of her efforts on ignoring her gag reflex and found it easier to do than she anticipated. Draco sighed, content, and pushed his finger as far as it would go.

"I always knew you'd be a filthy little slut. That's what you are, aren't you, Hermione? You're my little slut. Only for me, and no one else."

She nodded, bringing his finger to the tip of her lips before taking in a second finger and bobbing her head down until they were down her throat. She held him there, lips at his knuckles while she lapped tenderly at the base of his fingers with her tongue. Hermione was on a mission to prove something to him: that she was more than just a bookworm. That deep down inside, she had more to offer than textbook knowledge and photographic memory of incantations.

"Tell me what you want, pet." He withdrew his hand and patted her harshly on the cheek. "I want to hear you say it."

"I…" Hermione frowned, though she doubted he could see it because of the blindfold. Dirty talk was his area of expertise, not hers, and she had no idea where to begin. "I can't."

"You will," he commanded, "Or I walk away now."

She sighed, flushed with embarrassment and arousal. "I… I want to… I want to make you feel good, Master."

"And how would you go about that?"

"Putting… your cock in my mouth." She blinked behind the blindfold, surprised at the boldness of her words. It was liberating. She got braver. "I want to taste your cum as it spills down my throat." Oh, Heavens bells! Did she really just say that? She'd need to wash her mouth out with soap after this.

He chuckled, and then there was the sound of a buckle being loosened and a zipper tugged down. Something warm and firm brushed across her lips -she gasped, realizing it was his prick, hard and wanting, and ready for her. Draco took the gasp as opportunity and shoved the head into her mouth, followed by the shaft. Hermione, surprised, put her hands up to his hips to stop him, but he fisted the curls of her hair and pulled her face forward, until he rested about three-fourths of the way inside her. It took her a moment to get used to the size -it had girth to it (more than Ron's, at least), and as it touched the back of her throat, she realized he would, indeed, have to shove it down her throat in order to fit it in. She took the challenge, inhaling through her nose before jerking his hips forward and swallowing him.

Draco hissed an anxious breath, and the fingers in her hair loosened their grip as he rocked his hips forward. " _Fuck,_ Granger… My little cock-hungry whore…" One hand rested on the back of her head, while the other stroked down the side of her cheek. Hermione's mouth watered, and as she slid her mouth down his shaft to the tip, she increased the pressure, so that he could feel every warm, wet bit of her tongue. Malfoy took his hand from her cheek and steadied his cock in front of her, brushing the tip down her chin. "Beg me to let you suck me."

This was all so new to Hermione, and she ate it up like Christmas dinner. Why hadn't she explored submission sooner? It felt so freeing, giving over all control to someone else. She didn't have to think about paperwork, or who she would let down if she didn't take charge. With Malfoy, she could just _be_. And that thought alone made her desperate to please him, to give him everything he desired.

"Please, Master. Let me suck your cock. I've thought about it all week. Let me taste you. Let me make you feel good. I promise I'll be a good girl if you just let me lick it."

The hand behind her head prompted her forward, and she heard him give a happy sigh. "Who am I to deny my good girl? Open wide, now. And stick out your tongue. -That's it, baby. That's a good girl," he encouraged as Hermione repeated every action, feeling a bit silly as her tongue lay out there in the open -that was, until he ran the head of his cock across it so that she could taste his precum. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours, Master."

"Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"That's right. And if I wanted to, I could have my way with you anytime, day or night. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, Master."

"When you're here, you belong to me. And that means I get to do," without warning, he shoved his cock into her mouth and down her throat, holding the back of her head with both hands to keep her from pulling away, "Whatever I want. -If I wanted you to choke on it, you'd do it. Wouldn't you?" She nodded, the head of his cock pulsing in her throat, and he released her again so that she fell back, struggling for breath. Her hand went up to her neck, instinctively, rubbing at the tender muscles. Draco's hand came out and smacked her lightly on the cheek. "Ah, ah. No ma'am. Hands down at your sides, love." She nodded, resting her hands in her lap. It was a subtle act of defiance, and either he didn't notice or chose not to react to it. She heard him walk away from her, and she pouted her lip.

"Where are you going…Master?" He didn't answer. "Draco?"

She heard the sound of a trunk creaking as he sifted through it. Something metal clinked against itself, and he approached her slowly, finally speaking. "Sit up straight." She did, and something cold and hard clamped down on her right nipple.

"Ow!"

"Shh…" A finger brushed against her lips to silence her.

Another pinch of metal to the left one, and then a tug at the chain connecting them. Hermione groaned as the clamps tugged hard on her nipples and made her breasts ache in delectable pain. Ron would have died of mortification if she'd ever suggested something like this. Draco didn't even care to ask her if she was interested. He simply did. It seemed to be his approach on life.

There was a shuffling of clothing as Hermione waited patiently. Then his hands reached down and brought her own up to the defined muscles of his abdomen. "I've wanted you for so long, Hermione," he whispered. "To have you just like this, at my feet, worshiping me."

Her nipples pulsed as did the want between her thighs. She dipped her head forward and kissed against the lower part of his stomach, surprised at the smoothness of his skin. Ron was softer, hairier too. Draco was nothing but sculpted perfection mixed with delicious sweat. The only hairs she found on him rested just above the waistband of his underwear that she tugged further down as she kissed him over and over.

He patted her on the head, prompting her to cease her movements. She rested her cheek against his hipbone and waited for his command. "Down on all fours, pet. I want your ass up so you can show me that lovely pussy." He backed away from her, and Hermione rested her palms down against the cool marble, obedient in every way. She listened to his shoes clack across the floor as he circled her, clapping slow in approval. There was another shuffle of clothing, and then he fell to his knees behind her. Hermione knew that he had, even though she couldn't see it. She just _knew_. She thought he might drive home and shove his prick inside of her, but he surprised her by pulling her ass backwards and diving in, tongue out, into her slit.

Hermione moaned. Oh, Merlin, but his tongue felt so good. Draco lapped eagerly as he leaned back, taking her with him until she practically sat atop his face. There was a tug at the chain between her nipple clamps, prompting her forward and down until she felt his cock brush against her cheek. Hermione took no time in wrapping her fingers around the hard organ and slipping it into her mouth while Draco feasted on her, pressing his tongue inside her before sucking along her clit. He dragged his tongue all the way up, even between her cheeks, and she gasped when she felt his tongue touch a part of her no one else had. She forgot, momentarily, about her task of sucking him off, lost in the sensation as he expertly rimmed her.

"Mmm…fuck… oh… Draco…"

He spanked her ass crisply before prying his mouth away to leave a bit on one cheek and then the other. "Mine."

"Yours…" She nodded helplessly.

"Every single bit of you is mine, Hermione. Don't you ever forget that." He propped her hips upwards and dove back to lick at the lips of her pussy again, this time paying careful attention to her clit. She lowered her mouth back onto him again and began to bob her head up and down, her mouth nearly as wet as the other set of lips between her legs. She sucked at him with vigor, concentrating, even when he attempted to distract her by applying feather-light kisses to her clitoris. Before Hermione realized what she was doing, her hips started to move in time with his tongue, and her mouth bobbed up and down happily on his prick. She could feel him tense as his cock twitched in her mouth, and she quickly dove her head forward and pushed him down her throat in time for him to spill his warm cum into her. He came hard, hips thrusting up, and he temporarily ceased his pleasure to her to take in his own orgasm as it washed over him. His breath came in jagged pants, and he laughed between gasps of breath. "Fuck…" He smacked her ass playfully. "I knew you'd be worth it." He yanked her upright, settling her atop his face, and his tongue went at her again with newfound resolve. He licked, nibbled, tasted, flicked his tongue -anything he could do to build her up past the tipping point. Hermione's hand slid up her stomach as the other fisted her hair.

"Oh, God, yes… Thank you, Master. Thank you. It feels so good… yes.. eat me out…" The words poured from her as if gospel. "Make me come, Master. Please. Please, Draco. I want to come. I _need_ to-" And then she came, the inside of her clenching up and releasing with baptismal glory. Draco gingerly licked every bit of her, riding out her bliss with attentive ministrations until he was satisfied. He gave her kiss one last clit before rested his head against the floor to watch her legs shake. And boy, did they ever. Her legs tremored in the post-orgasmic high Draco had given her. Eventually, she gave up trying to hold herself up and rested her stomach across his chest, knees beside his ribcage, her cheek on his thigh. Her breathing came in pants as a bead of sweat dripped down her jaw.

"How long has it been since someone made you come, Hermione?" he asked quietly.

"Too long," she whispered back.

He laid there, pensive, for a time, before he spoke again. "One room down. Four to go."

She cracked a smile against his leg, tempted to take off the blindfold just so she could see his smirk he surely wore, but caught herself last moment. She hadn't been ordered to take it off, and she wasn't about to screw up their new dominant/submissive tryst. His hands slid up the back of her thighs and spread her legs wider, exposing her further to him. Her bravery took root in the form of words. "Do you like what you see, Draco?"

"Hell yes, I do." He chuckled. "…Hermione?"

She lifted her head. "Yes?"

"I… never mind." He fell silent.

"What is it?"

"It's nothing." He ushered her off of him to lay on her side, and turned his body so that he lay flesh against her, chest to chest. His hand snaked around her back and tugged her close, brushing his nose against hers. "Did you like that?"

"Yes." She nodded, finding a lazy smile. She felt a tug at the back of the blindfold, and light flooded her eyes as he removed it. When her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she found him staring at her, lips drawn in a playful smirk.

"Good," he said, leaning forward and giving her a kiss to her lips. "See what happens when you're compliant?" He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and planted a few more kisses around her lips, her jaw, her cheeks. "My beautiful Granger, all to myself." He looked as if he meant the words, and her heart jumped. "New assignment when you get home, pet."

"What's that?"

He grinned mischievously. "Touch yourself to the thought of me. Every night. Every morning. At your desk," he licked his lips, "In the bath. Anytime you want. Just do it to the thought of me. -Can you do that?"

She responded with a nod.

He swatted her on the bum for sport. "Good girl. Next Friday. Same time."

* * *

That night, when Hermione said her goodbyes and arrived at her small, one bedroom flat once again, she immediately threw herself onto the bed, Draco's smirk still playing behind her eyelids. And she touched herself to the thought of him. And it was glorious.


	3. Part 3

**Wow. Let me just say, thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story thus far. I hope that part 3 makes you giddy!**

Waymay **, I owe you all the thanks for editing this chap for me, and for not laughing at me through IM over it. XD**

 **~A.**

 **P.S. If you like the chapter, please consider leaving a review or favorite/following this story? XD Thank you!**

* * *

 **"New Perspective" by Panic! At The Disco**

* * *

"Count them."

 _Smack._ "Ah! One."

"Very good. Again."

 _Smack._ "Mmh. Two."

"Wonderful. Again."

 _Smack!_ "AH! Th-Three…" _SMACK._ "Four!" _SMACK. SMACK. SMACK!_ "Five! Si-Six! Seven…" She pressed her eyes shut as the heated stings on her backside were replaced with the cool fingertips of his hand as they brushed down her ass cheek. There, Draco traced the outline of his palm, making a pleased sound when Hermione arched her back in response. The bite of the spanks had spread out into a heat across her skin, painful and yet oddly satisfying, and by the time his hand came down, unexpectedly, she all but screamed, "Eight!"

"What a good little pet you are," he praised, changing up the focus to her other cheek with the stubble of his chin as he brushed his face against the less sensitive bundle of flesh. Hermione's fingers curled tighter around the chair's top rail, her knees digging into the splat, toes curling. She made the brave attempt to turn her face and glance back at him in all of his glory, dressed to the nines tonight in a charcoal button-up and black silk vest, the arms of his sleeves rolled up to the elbow. His Dark Mark contrasted the ivory skin tone of his forearm, making it the center of attention as it rested against his dress slacks. It was a sight to behold; Draco Malfoy, on his knees as Hermione Granger positioned herself on a simple wooden chair, save but for the nice bit of plush designed into the seating to protect her knees from going numb. She had been ordered to strip and present herself on this chair as soon as they had entered 'The Punishment Room.' Adequately named, it held an array of combination toys from the bondage room as well as several others. This was the first room she hadn't been allowed to choose, reasoning been that, because she had denied him earlier this week, she needed to be taught a lesson. Why she agreed to it was beyond her, but, thinking back, maybe she had egged it on a bit.

* * *

The guilt should have been there. She knew, with every fiber of her being, that what she had done with Draco Malfoy at Bond two weekends in a row was neither logical nor moral. If the black domino mask had anything to say on the matter, it was a blaring siren that warned her, as Luna had suggested, to stay away. He was a married man, and that's all there was to it.

So why, in the middle of this Wednesday afternoon, filing paperwork at her desk, did she fantasize about him? It wasn't stable. He wasn't hers, and she wasn't his.

 _'That's what you are, aren't you, Hermione? You're my little slut.'_

Alright. Maybe at _Bond_ , in some twisted, unholy way, she had allowed herself to belong to him for one night. But that certainly didn't mean she was his right now, in her office, even as the evidence of her arousal dampened between her legs. She sighed, setting her face in her hands as she rested her elbows atop the table, silently reprimanding herself for taking it so far. This was something highly inappropriate, fantasizing about Draco Malfoy in her place of work when she knew she needed to make copies of the Jameson case to take down to Floor two…

A knock came to her office door, and she clamped her skirted legs together forcefully as her secretary, Scarlet Whempleton, stepped inside. Scarlet's eyes were wide, and she fanned herself with her clipboard as she said, "Miss Granger, you have a visitor."

"What?" Hermione raised both of her eyebrows, shuffling some paperwork nervously on her desk to calm the heat that radiated over her skin from her fantasies. She found it shocking someone would want to speak to her in her office -usually, when someone wished to discuss the legalities of magical creatures, they would discuss it with her supervisor in length before making an appointment. "I don't remember having a visitor scheduled."

"You didn't, but… they say they're here to discuss the freeing of all of their house elves?" Scarlet looked behind her, out the door, as if still in disbelief. "I think it's Draco Malfoy!" she shouted in a hushed whisper.

The icy chill that settled over Hermione's skin was instantaneous, and she sat still, in silence, for a moment to process. "Draco… Malfoy… _here_ … at my office. Wishing to discuss house elves?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

"Blonde hair? Pale skin? Demanding gray eyes that look like they could rip you in half?"

"That's the one. -Of course, I think you've described nearly every Malfoy in existence today…"

"Send him in."

"Al-alright." Scarlet gave her associate a nod before leaving and returning with someone behind her; a certain someone with an infamous smirk cradled across his alluring face. "A Mister Malfoy here to see you, Miss Granger."

"Welcome." Her voice wasn't charming like it usually was with potential clientele -it wasn't harsh, either, like she could be when dealing with unwelcome visitors. It was void of all tone, protecting herself of any preconceived notions until she could get to the bottom of things. "Have a seat." She gestured to the cushioned chair across the desk from her, and Draco smirked, almost appreciatively, as he took his place atop it. "Thank you, Scarlet."

"Yes ma'am." Scarlet nodded, eyes still wide as saucers as she left, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Immediately, Hermione's eyes turned on the blonde socialite in her office, and she stared intensely at him, waiting for an explanation. All she received in response, however, was that constant smirk and the comment that followed. "Abnormally small office, wouldn't you say?"

Her mouth fell open, and she popped a hand down on her desk. "What are you doing here?"

"Hmm? Didn't your assistant tell you? I'm in the process of freeing a few of my house elves, and wanted to speak over legalities-"

"Don't give me that trite nonsense." Hermione waved her wand and cast a quick silencing spell so that Scarlet wouldn't hear her reprimand a Malfoy to the point of screaming. Her voice became louder with each word as she said, "It is one thing to meet up on the weekend, but it is something else entirely to show up at my office, unannounced, and… and…!" Well, what was he doing here, really?

"And?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"And…" She leaned back into her chair, arms folded in her lap, and shrugged. "And… I have no clue what you're doing here." She pointed an accusing finger at him. "But I know damn well it has nothing to do with house elves."

"You've caught me." He threw up his hands in mocking submission, mirroring her and also leaning back in his chair. "I was in the Ministry on other business and couldn't resist coming to visit you in your department."

"To make fun of my small office space?"

"To check in on you." His voice was teasing, and yet oddly serious at the same time. He brushed an imaginary speck of lint off of his silver button down vest and cocked his head to the side.

"Why?" Hermione asked, utterly flabbergasted. "You… when we're outside of… of Bond… you've never…"

"I've been thinking about you," he admitted. "Sue me."

"Maybe I will."

"Oh, come now, Granger." He rolled his eyes. "Why all of the animosity?"

"Look." She crossed her arms. "Just because we've shared a few enjoyable evenings together at a club doesn't warrant you the right to show up at my office out of the blue. What if word got out that you were here, hmm? What would your wife think?"

Draco's jaw tensed, and his gray eyes flickered up to hers dangerously. "I think that's for me to ponder on, not you."

"I will _not_ be a homewrecker."

"You aren't."

"You've shown up to my office. Mid-week. To 'check up on me'?" She sighed, stood up from her chair, and gestured towards the door. "You may leave, now."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Should I call security?"

"And here I thought you didn't want all eyes on the fact that I'm here, in your office." He made a tisking sound and tapped his foot on the floor.

Sighing again, she placed a hand to her forehead to make sure she wasn't, in fact, having a fever induced hallucination. "I'm so confused."

"Clearly." He patted his lap, much like he had done last weekend at the club, and stared at her expectantly. Hermione raised both of her eyebrows, looked about the room, and then finally focused her eyes back towards him.

"You cannot be serious right now."

"I, vaguely, recall you agreeing that I could have my way with you, any time. Day _or_ night."

She glanced up at the closed door and then back down to him. "Yes. I said that. In _Bond_. But this…" She gestured between them. "This isn't what I meant."

"Come on, _pet_ ," he smirked, patting his lap again. "Just sit in my lap for two minutes. Give me something to look forward to this weekend."

"No. -You're a _married_ man. Go get your wife to sit on your lap. This is done." She threw up her hands and made to move towards the door to open it, but Draco caught her by the wrist and halted her advance.

"What do you mean this is _done_?"

"I mean, no more. It's one thing to meet at a club, discreetly. It's an entirely different thing to show up in my office and…" his thumb traced circles along the pulse vein in her wrist, forcing her breathing to hitch unexpectedly. She forced herself to swallow the feeling of lust and said, "And you need to go."

"Do I?" He brought her wrist up to his lips and kissed it delicately. "Hermione, we both know you don't mean that."

"I most certainly do."

"Then why is your arm trembling?"

She narrowed her eyes, realizing that he was, indeed, correct. Her hand shook in his clutches. "Clearly, it's because on some primal level, I find you attractive."

"So you'd really like me to go?"

"Yes."

"Pet…"

"I'm not your pet. We're just two people who fooled around on a whim. I, clearly, have some repressed sexual issues stemming from my failed marriage, and you… I have no clue what's wrong with you."

"I do." He tugged her closer, trailing brazen kisses up her arm. Each press of his lips enveloped her skin in warmth and tingles, until her eyes fell closed, listening to the soothing sound of his voice as he whispered between kisses, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, Granger. Not once. And it sickens me, because I've never known I could feel like such a schoolboy. Just the thought of you, at work, bending over paperwork as that little crinkle between your eyebrows-"

"Stop it." She jerked her arm out of his reach and opened her eyes again. Warm brown met frigid silver, and she shook her head in dismissal. "We shouldn't." And though she said the words, there was something so telling in her tone; she didn't believe what she was selling, and Draco caught on. He rose to stand, towering over her and tilting his head as he leaned in, nose to nose.

"You and I both know that this," he brushed his fingertips down her cheek, "won't stop. Not by me. And most certainly not by you."

"Don't underestimate the power of a determined woman," she scowled, though she made no effort to move. The way his fingers danced across her skin as he slid them down her neck caught her in a haze of sensations, ranging from timid to sex-crazed. In some small way, it was almost flattering, thinking he had taken time out of his day to stop by her office. Flattering and idiotic. "You should go."

"You really mean that?"

"I… o-of course I do. You're disrupting my work day." Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers made their way back up her neck and he tucked a few stray curls that had fallen out of her bun behind her ear. "You're a distraction," she said decidedly, forcing her eyes back open. Draco's eyes searched her own, the ice of his irises melting into calming slate grey. "Stop looking at me that way."

"What way?"

 _'Like you care about me_ ,' she thought. "Like… like what we have isn't purely experimental."

"Is that what you think it is?" His voice wasn't hurt, but there was the force of a sincerity behind the question, as if he truly wanted to know her answer and didn't already know it himself. "Experimental?"

"I've given this a lot of thought," she said, her voice hoarse and quiet as a whisper. Indeed, she had pondered over what was going on among them for the last two weeks now and between fantasizing over him. And she'd come to a conclusion. "And since I know that you're just as new to the floors as I am, it is the only reasonable explanation."

"You're just full of assumptions," he mused, entertained.

"Am I incorrect? Have you gone up to the upper floors with others?"

"No." He smirked.

"So it's new for you, too."

"In a way…"

She narrowed her eyes. "None of what you ever say makes any sense."

"Let me uncomplicated it for you, then." He brought his face closer to hers, so that they were nose-to-nose. "As of this moment, you're the only one I've found interesting enough to venture up to Tier Two. There's something compelling about you, Granger, and I'm determined to find out what that is."

"Oh. Well, let _me_ uncomplicated it for _you_ , then." She poked his chest with her forefinger. "You, obviously, have some deep-rooted notions in your head that you were infatuated with me as a child. But the truth is; I'm familiar. That's what the allure is for you. You can try out those upper floors without the guilt of knowing you've fooled around, without your wife, with a stranger. In some sick fashion, you can justify me because I'm, in a word, safe. You know I wouldn't tell the presses about your tastes in sexual deviancies, and you've tricked yourself into thinking that we have some connection to take away the guilt that you've cheated on your wife." When the smirk didn't fall from his face as anticipated, she furrowed her eyebrows. "Why are you still smiling?"

He chuckled, rubbing his nose against hers. "I'm just waiting for you to figure it out."

"What's there to figure? You're not an equation, Malfoy."

"Draco," he corrected.

"It's my office. I'll address you however I like." She felt around her desk while keeping her face perfectly still against his, and her fingers grasped the bit of paperwork she had been looking for. She brought her hand up and slid a pamphlet between their noses, forcing him to back up a few inches. "House elf liberation -and you!" She recited the attentive title from memory. "Read it. Live it. Love it." She shoved the pamphlet into his chest. "When you're ready to discuss your liberation options, you may make an appointment with Miss Whempleton outside. Until then, don't show up at my office unannounced."

Draco's fingers gripped around the paper, and he raised an eyebrow as he read over the title. "Thank you, Miss Granger." His smirk widened exponentially. "I'll be sure to do that."

Hermione's mouth fell open, and she stared at him inquisitively. "G…Get out of my office."

"Certainly." He bowed his head gracefully, and when he raised it again, he winked. "So I'll see you on Friday?"

"And if I say no?"

"Then you'll find your appointment book quite full."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would." He looked to the pamphlet with mocking adoration. "I simply can't grasp the bylaws. I'm sure it'll take me quite a long time figure these out, and who better to liberate me on the terms than you?"

"Fine! Oh my Lord! Fine! I'll be there Friday!"

"Great." He tucked the pamphlet inside of his vest breast pocket. "All of a sudden, I feel much more up to code on the terminology. Thank you again, Miss Granger." He strolled to the door, one hand tucked in his pants pocket. "Oh, by the way." He turned his head to her. "I'll be picking the next room."

"What? No you won't. The deal was I would choose."

"Yeah… no. The topic isn't open for discussion." He turned the handle, dampening her resolve to comment back, as the silencing charm would only work if the door remained closed. He said in a loud voice so that Scarlet could here, "Thank you so much for your time, Miss Granger. I feel like I understand everything quite clearly now. I'll just make an appointment on the way out, then?"

Hermione snatched up a book off her desk and threatened to throw it at him, and he stifled back a laugh.

"Tell you what. Why don't you owl me when you're free?" He gave her a dangerously enticing wink and shut the door behind him.

* * *

"Nine!" Hermione squealed, biting down on her lower lip shortly after to hold back the scream that wanted to break out. This last blow to her backside had been crisp and more forceful than any of the others. It held with it the weight of his hand, not having left her cheek since its brutal lash. His lips pressed against the sway in her back, tender and caring in comparison to the sting of her ass.

"You're doing so well," he whispered, fingers digging into her burning skin. "I'm so proud of you."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, embarrassed by the way his praises set a fire in her lower belly. That burn in her abdomen nearly matched the one on her backside, and she wanted desperately to hear more of his approval. "Thank you."

"You're most certainly welcome," he said affectionately, kissing the dip between her shoulder blades. "Are you ready for more?"

She gave a small nod, and his palm paddled her ass cheek firmly, forcing a tear into her eye. Though this last smack wasn't as hard as the last one, her skin was still extremely sensitive, so the pain heightened exponentially. "Ten..!" She let her head fall forward, nails digging into the wood.

"I told you never to deny me again. And what did you do on Wednesday?" SMACK.

"I… I told you no, Sir."

"That's right, pet. Do you think I enjoy hearing you tell me no?"

"Maybe a little…" SMACK. "Ouch! N-No, sir!"

"Count them."

"Eleven. Twelve."

"Wrong. We're starting over."

"What?" She whipped her head around and stared, wide-eyed at him. "Why?"

"Because I fancy it." He pushed himself up and stood, walking around the chair to stare down at her. The silver in his eyes was just a ring in comparison to his dilated pupils. "And because you deserve it." He tucked his arms behind his back and smirked. "Say it. You deserve to be punished."

Her heart raced, and she couldn't resist the thrill that rushed through her veins as her adrenaline kicked in. "I deserve it. I denied you, and I'm sorry." He raised a foreboding eyebrow, and she added, "Sir." It had been requested (or demanded, depending on how she looked at it) that she refer to him as 'Sir' this evening.

"Great. Glad we're in agreement. -Go pick out your switch."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, pet. Did I stutter? I said -Go. Pick out. Your _switch_." He untucked an arm to push his fingers under her chin and bring her face up to look at him. "You've been a bad girl, Hermione. You made assumptions, you denied me what is mine, and, as I recall, you threatened to throw a book at me."

"You were sort of being an ass…" Lightly, his fingers tapped across her cheek -not a full slap, but enough to get her attention.

"Careful. I might just go pick out your punishment for you." His eyes danced dangerously in the candlelight of the room. "Go on, pet. Pick something out and present it to me."

Falling into step with her role from last week, she did as she was told, enjoying the lack of control. She had decided that, perhaps, this was the reason why she came back for a third weekend in a row. Aside from the fact that she felt a deep-seeded attraction for her once childhood enemy, there was something so freeing in handing over all control to someone else for a few hours of her life. Draco had yet to do anything she didn't like, so it gave her some sense of comfort in knowing that he would be the one to tell her what to do, how to do it, and when. All of her life, she had delegated her friends, her family, her relationships. Giving someone else the reins… it was a weight off of her shoulders. Maybe Luna had known she would need something like this. The blonde always had a way of knowing things about people that they didn't know about themselves -about life, in general. Though Hermione still doubted there was ever such a thing as a nargle.

"Get out of your head," said Draco, bringing her attention back around. "What are you thinking?"

"Honestly?" She asked, pushing herself up off the chair. "Nargles."

"What?"

"Exactly. Never mind it." She waved her hand dismissively and noticed the way his eyes raked over her presented, naked form. Suddenly self-conscious, she made to block her most exposed body parts, but he stepped around the chair, rendering her still.

"Turn around," he said, and she did. She knew his eyes were now on her sure-to-be-reddened backside, and a hand came out, resting along her left cheek possessively. "Empty your mind."

"I… don't know how to do that."

"Try. -Close your eyes."

"But-"

"-Just do it."

She sighed, and did. "Why?"

"Because I cannot properly give you your punishment if you're not entirely here, in this moment." Soft lips ghosted the shell of her ear, and her body leaned back, instinctually, against his. "So let your mind empty. Forget about work. Or home. Focus on me. On this." His fingers slid around her hips and rested there. "Don't pretend this hasn't been the anticipated highlight of your week." He kissed along her ear, her neck, her jaw… "Admit you love coming here."

"Why?"

"I need to hear it."

Since when did Draco Malfoy need anything from her? "I thought this was supposed to be a punishment," she whispered, trying to tease to alleviate some of the tension building between them.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Admittedly, a bit."

His lips smirked against her throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go pick out your switch, then."

He pushed her forward, causing her to stumble and whimper at the lack of contact. For all that she pretended not to, she was beginning to love these nights with him, even though she knew it couldn't be anything more than that. These moments, lost in the submissive nature of his dominating personality, were fleeting and disconnected from the rest of her reality. Seeing him, at her office, had stirred a painful reminder that this could only be fun. Not because she wanted something more. But just the knowledge that she was being used for his own, personal fun, and could go back to his relationship at the end of the day with no qualms… she was envious of it. When this night ended, she would be forced to face her realities; she was alone, once again, in her flat. This, between them, would once again be placed on the back burner, and she would be nothing more than a pretty item kept at his disposal. How long would this last, she wondered, before he grew tired of her and moved on to something -someone- else?

The question ate at her, burning a hole inside of her soul. He shouldn't have come on Wednesday. Because before then, she hadn't asked herself these thought-provoking questions. She hadn't been forced to see him outside of Bond, to be reminded he existed in the real world too, and not just here. He lived a life completely outside of his nights with her. Maybe it was because of her divorce, but she felt the same burning jealousy start to eat at her the way she felt when she thought of Ron moving on with his life. To think she wasn't the center of anyone's world anymore… it hurt. It was all the punishment Draco never meant to give her, but had.

Her eyes raked over the East wall, where switches from all walks of life were displayed. Her fingers grazed over the bullwhip, the riding crop, the firm sticks and wooden canes. Each one would contain a special kind of feeling against her, she was sure, and though she would never tell him, she performed some research on her downtime, determined to soak in the knowledge of this new arena. Because she wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she didn't know what to anticipate beforehand. She knew she didn't want -too- much pain, and she was pretty sure, by her research, that Draco was not a sadist. His care and attention to her proved that he only got off on what kind of pleasure she would receive from him. He, also, just happened to like being in control of the situation at the same time. She'd psychoanalyzed it to the point where she determined perhaps his lack of control in his childhood made him crave it now. The Dark Mark across his arm was a choice bared to him by pressure from his father and a need to please. He, even now, possessed the same need, though it was much more forceful and structured. She was sure as long as she gave him control, he would give her whatever she desired.

Her eyes kept coming back to the riding crop, and she licked her lips as she reached out, plucked it from the wall, and presented it to him. "This one."

He gave her an impressed nod of the head as he took it from her and gestured back to the chair. "So confident," he noted. "How interesting."

"You don't like it?" she asked, climbing back onto the chair, facing towards it, ass out and fingers gripped around the railing.

Draco smirked, tapping the leather flap at the end into his palm over and over. "Oh. I love it." His face lit to life in cheerful eagerness. She felt happy she could put that expression on his face. It looked so pretty on him. "I'll let you choose how many you believe you deserve. This is, after all, _your_ punishment."

Hermione closed her eyes and turned her head forward, not wanting him to see the blush that crept up her face. She mulled the idea around in her mind a few moments before answering, "Seven, Sir."

"Why seven, pet?"

"One for each day of the week we were apart. And two for denying you on Wednesday."

He chuckled approvingly and stepped up behind her. "Sounds fair. Count them."

THWACK. The leather flap at the end smacked atop the middle of her right cheek, a controlled sting sending shivers down her spine. It was different than the hand, but in a pleasant way. She thought it would hurt more. Instead, the pain was gone almost as quickly as it came. "One."

THWACK.

"Two."

With each swat to her behind, Hermione felt a little bit of herself give way to someone else; she felt so distracted from the everyday hustle and bustle. All that mattered was Draco, the crop, and counting out her punishment for him. Gone were her worries, her stresses, the guilt that plagued her on most nights following something like this. She only wanted to take another smack and press on, earning another room as a notch in her belt. "Ah! Five."

She squeezed her eyes tight, ready for the sixth swat, but it didn't come. Instead, a warm hand pressed against her round backside and massaged the skin there. "No more." He stroked his fingers up her back and rested them on her shoulder. "You've been such a good girl, Hermione."

She tilted her head to the side, smiling at the sound of her name. "Thank you."

"You deserve a reward."

"I do?"

"Of course you do. -Get dressed. You choose the next room." She felt him place the silky fabric of her black dress over her shoulder at the same time that his lips pressed against her cheek. Blushing, she climbed off of the chair, slipped the dress on, and picked up her heels. Draco smiled at her -a genuine smile- and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?" She blushed in response, opting out of talking in fear of ruining the moment as he led her towards the door. He turned the handle, and as the door swung open, she could see the rune branded against it lose its illuminating glow.

The lounge on Tier Two was sparse of couples this evening. Most of them were still down on Tier One, dancing it up and selecting a worthy partner. Draco wasted no time in dragging her up to the second floor upon her arrival, even when Blaise and Pansy insisted that they at least have a round of shots first. He'd been ravenous in his determination to get her upstairs, and demanding once he'd achieved it. So seeing this side of Draco, so tender and affectionate, had Hermione's head spinning.

He walked them out of the room, pulling her into a deep, controlling kiss that made her stomach turn in knots. His hands slipped into her hair, giving it a firm tug in the back as his tongue brushed against her lower lip, simply telling her what to do next. She gave in, meeting his tongue with hers, and they stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a few minutes, her hands sliding up and down his chest, his back, his bum, wanting to remember every detail so that she could frig herself to her memories later. In a moment of passion, he scooped her up by her bum and hooked her legs around his waist before shoving them both into the wall behind her. Hermione's head hit with a definitive smack, but so lost in his kiss, she could, hardly, care less.

"Sorry," he muttered between kisses.

"Don't be," she replied breathlessly, dipping her head under his to steal a kiss below his ear, right along his jaw. She'd been dying to test this theory out since Pansy had claimed it his weak spot, and judging by the low, dismally uncontrolled moan that escaped his lips, the Slytherin woman had been correct. Interesting. She wasn't sure she wanted to know _how_ she knew, but she was thankful for the advice.

"Hermione… oh, fuck." His fingers pressed into her hips as she nibbled along his earlobe, turning the tide in their roles. She was sure if she kept this up, she could have him on his knees if she desired. "Mmm… pick a room."

"I don't know the runes," she admitted in a seductive whisper, "Remind me again? Some of the rooms?" She became so comfortable with kissing Draco, she didn't mind if the two other couples in the lounge saw them snog like teenagers against the wall. Bond was becoming something addicting to her -as was Draco.

He gasped as she trailed kisses up and down his neck, and it took everything in him to concentrate on his answer. "There's the roleplay room, the voyeur room, the toy room-"

"That one." She jerked her head back to stare him in the eyes. "That one, please."

"Alright, then." He smirked, setting her down to the floor and slipping his hand in hers. He led her across the lounge, to a door with a symbol of a spiral with three lines slashed between it. As the lounge was mainly empty, the room was as well, and he pulled her into it without a second thought.

This one was different than the others -it was a rectangular room lined with two, plush leather sofas, navy blue walls with white trim, a fireplace in the center across from the sofas, and a window, no doubt bewitched to look like a fresh fallen snow waited outside. "Wow…" She placed a hand to her mouth and gasped. "This room is so beautiful."

"Is it?" Draco asked, releasing her hand. "Hmm. I suppose it is sort of charming." He strolled across the carpeted floor and took a seat on the sofa adjacent to the fireplace. "Sit."

This time, Hermione did not disagree. She didn't try to rationalize her thoughts, only obeyed and sat in his lap, folding her arms around his neck. She started a trail of kisses from his cheek to his ear to his neck and down to his collar, listening to his satisfied sighs as if they were gold stars of a job well done. Draco pulled her legs up onto the sofa so she draped across him bridal style, and there he turned his head and captured her lips in a soft, compelling kiss. Something stirred between them this evening that wasn't there before; a sense of urgency. It was as if they both knew with each room checked off of the list, they were one step closer to the romantic intimacy of the love-making experience he'd promised her. While Hermione felt excited at the prospect of adventure, she also realized that, afterwards, the future was fuzzy. Perhaps their tryst would end at the same time that their contractual agreement, or perhaps he'd want to continue on with experimenting? What did that make her to him? She didn't like the idea of being some side dish to a main course meal. Of course, this was Draco Malfoy. What more could she expect of something like what they had? Did she really expect him to be compelled to care for her more than some sexual endeavor? Why did that thought make her want to tear out of the room crying her eyes out? Since when did this adventure get emotional?

Not wanting to dwell on it, she pulled away from their kissing frenzy to ask, "Wasn't this supposed to be a toy room? I don't see any."

"This room works differently than most of the other rooms. Every person is a bit different with preferences, so the room takes a person's likes and dislikes into account, creating the perfect situation for one's needs."

"It's a room of requirement."

"Precisely."

"How peculiar!" Hermione glanced around the room, eager. "That sort of magic is extremely complex. I've never heard of anyone being able to replicate it outside of Hogwarts. The owner of this establishment must have some sort of knowledge on the subject. So they'd have to be a Hogwarts-alumni, wouldn't they?"

Draco shrugged. "I try not to dwell on those sort of things. Takes the fun out of the place."

"How would you know?" She raised an eyebrow. "Come to think of it, how do you know so much about these rooms in the first place? If you've never been up here with someone…"

His answer was quick. "Blaise and Pansy spend many-a-night in these rooms."

"They do." She narrowed her eyes. "And they just share all their knowledge with you? Freely? Just like that?"

"Well… yeah." He laughed. "Pansy is under some withering impression that I'll join them one night. Blaise swings both ways."

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "So… if she wants you to join them… does that mean _you_ …?"

"Hmm?" He realized her meaning. "Oh. Oh! No."

"Because, it would be alright if you were-"

"I'm not bisexual, Granger-"

"-But if you were, I wouldn't judge-"

"-I guarantee you, I'm perfectly straight," he said conclusively, adding, "Not that I have a problem with anyone who isn't. Obviously. Blaise is one of my closer friends."

"And he wants to see you in your skivvies," she teased, giggling. She got a daring thought, and laughed full barreled laughs as she said, "He wants to see us both in our skivvies!"

"Or out of them." Draco smirked, trying to hold back the laughter threatening to crack his demeanor. He lost, eventually, and threw his head back, letting the laughs free. "Oh wow. I can't believe we just discussed something like this."

"I know!" Hermione sniggered into the crook of her neck. "Maybe we offer him the voyeur room with us?" At the turn upwards of his brows, she shook her head. "I'm kidding!"

"Oh. Thank Merlin." He pretended to shudder. "I do not need the image of Blaise whacking off to us in my head right now."

Hermione giggled, kissing him on the cheek. "So, does this room work exactly like the room of requirement?"

"It's the same principal, but more limited. -Food, alcohol, those sorts of things don't appear here. But, let's say a couple wanted to watch themselves…" He extended a hand out, and Hermione followed it, to where an antique floor mirror now stood about ten feet away. She caught Draco's heated, smoldering stare in the reflection, as well as the redness on her cheeks. "This room is all about inducing pleasure. Toys aren't limited to vibrators and such. A mirror works just as well." He turned her around, shifting her on his lap so that her legs rested on the outsides of his knees, and he bunched up the skirting of her dress. Hermione blushed at the reflection of herself, fully exposed, having not worn panties this evening to surprise him. Draco smirked in approval and rested one hand on her inner thigh while the other began to knead her covered breast through her dress. "Look at how beautiful you are, pet."

The hand on her thigh moved upwards, and Hermione's head fell back, resting against his shoulder. "Touch me. Please." She'd dreamt of this nearly every night this week, noting they had yet to actually have sex. It made the pressure of their sexual desires that much more desperate for an escape, and the way he was staring back at her in the reflection made her want nothing more than to rip his clothes off to ride him into next weekend.

"Close your eyes," he commanded, and she shut them obediently. "Always so eager to please, pet. I need you to do something for me, Hermione. I need you to focus on my voice. Can you do that, love?"

"Mmmhmm…" She nodded slowly, grinding her hips to entice him to touch her. His hand hovered above her, the heat of his palm radiating over her clit like sunlight. He was so close… if only he'd move just a bit closer…

"Now, think of something you'd like shoved inside that soft," he nibbled her earlobe, "warm," traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, "wet pussy."

"You," she answered immediately, desperation in her voice she hardly recognized. "I want you inside of me."

He chuckled, the warmth of his breath exhaled from his nose tickling her ear. "Of course you do. But this is the toy room, pet. I'm not a toy. You're _mine_." His fingers came down, lightly swatting her pussy and making her groan in want. "Now, what would you like, besides my cock, inside of you right now?"

Hermione felt her legs quiver as he pressed the heel of his palm against her and rubbed circles over her clitoris. She groaned, bucking forward, and he withdrew his hand away. "No." She groaned, eyes prying back open to meet his stare in the mirror. "Please. Don't stop."

"Then pick something," he said, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Hermione concentrated, but found it useless. Her lust for him, after weeks of waiting, had finally run her patience thin. "I just want you." She turned her face to look at him. "You pick. Just please, don't stop touching me."

Satisfied with her answer, he kissed her on the lips and said, "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Please."

Draco nodded once in agreement and shimmied her off of his lap. With graceful poise, he slid down to the floor between her legs, slipped her dress over her head, and smirked at her. He placed his hand out to his side, closed it, and opened it again to reveal a gold clamp, much like the ones he used on her nipples a week ago. But there was only the one, and the way he smirked so challengingly up at her made her forget herself for a moment.

"What's _that_?"

"You said I could choose whatever toy I wanted," he replied hungrily, "And I promise this will make you feel oh so good, pet."

"What is it?"

"Why so many questions? Don't you trust me?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Then lean back and close your eyes."

Hermione did as requested, and after a few sensual kisses against her pulsing center that had her gasping his name, she felt a pinch against her clitoris. She yelped, not ready for the sensation, but it was instantly washed away when the clamp against her clit began to _vibrate_. "Oh… _Oh_!" Her eyes shot open, and she found him smiling up at her face, biting on his lower lip. "Mmm…" She tried to hold back a moan, but then Draco tapped the clamp with his finger, and the vibration began to pulse. "Ohhhh…. Wow."

"Does my pet approve of her reward?"

"Mhmm… very much."

"Good girl." He tapped it again, and the pulsing changed to one short vibrations followed by two long ones. The pattern repeated over and over, building Hermione up like a house of cards. Draco pushed himself up to his feet, tugged her up to meet him, and walked her a mere two feet away from the mirror. "Touch your tits for me, Hermione." She saw the pleasant gleam in his eyes as they reflected back at her, and she moved her fingers against the nubs of her nipples, eager to please him. "Watch yourself."

Frustrated to take her gaze away from him, but not wanting to break his chain of command, she tore her eyes away from his and stared at her breasts, heaving up and down as she panted from the stimulation of the clit clamp. The slickness between her thighs was prominent, and she felt a gush of fluid trickle down her leg as she caught sight of herself tweaking her nipples between her fingertips. Here, in this moment, playing with herself in front of Draco, she had never felt more aroused. She could only imagine how hard he was, trapped between the confines of his pants. That was, until he pressed himself up against her, leaving barely anything to the imagination. The fabric of his pants felt soothing against her hind end, and she gasped when it contradicted the firmness of his erection.

"Draco," she whispered as he reached around and tapped the clamp again. Now it pulsed in rhythmic beats, short, long, short, short, long, and Hermione felt her knees quake. "Please, Sir. I've been so good tonight."

"You have, pet." He nodded, still refusing to touch her. Hermione, exasperated, released one of her breasts and moved her hand behind her, over his crotch. She watched his lids flutter closed for half a moment, watched the way his tongue darted out across his upper lip.

"Please," she said again, "Fuck me, Draco."

He half-smiled, eyes shrouded in his own lust as he stared at her in the mirror and whispered, "Fuck you, Hermione? Is that what you want?"

"Yes." She released his cock long enough to brush her bum against his tented trousers. "Please, Master. Fuck me. I'm such a good pet. I deserve a reward."

He physically shuddered at her words, and when his eyes snapped back open, his resolve was set. "Indeed, you do." His fingers slid over her ass cheeks, and both of his hands came down at once, smacking her harshly across her bum. Hermione gasped, choking back a scream, and then suddenly, she felt herself being pushed forward, bent over to grasp at the mirror for support. Her hands came out and pressed against the glass, expecting the mirror to move under her weight, but she found it sturdy and unyielding. She didn't have long to think over the physics, because she was aware of the sound of a buckle unclasping, and the shuffle of fabric, and then something warm and firm pressing itself against the lips of her pussy, right at her center. "Is this what you want, Hermione?"

"In me." She panted, looking up at him in the mirror again, spotting the pink along his cheeks. Here, in the reflection, she could see her breasts fully exposed, as was the curve of her behind as Draco stood behind her, positioned to shove in at a moment's notice. She didn't want to think about the repercussions of this act, or the fact that on some cosmic level, this was wrong. All she could think, and say, was, "In me, Master, plea-"

She didn't get the last of the word out, because she found herself lost in the sensation of Draco's cock pushing inside of her, stretching the thick band of muscles that tightened upon his intrusion. She heard him inhale a sharp breath, felt his hands glide across her backside in a display of ownership, saw the way his eyes fell closed and his mouth came open in bliss. Pride swelled within her that she could make him react in such a way, and in that moment, she felt invincible.

"Herm…ione…" He gasped as he withdrew himself to the head of his cock, his eyes finding themselves back open to find her staring at him with a smile. He met it with one of his own smirks before grasping her hips and thrusting into her, eliciting a string of obscenities. "So fucking tight," he groaned, moving slowly in and out of her. Hermione closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel, in the moment, the sensations brought about by all of the sexual tension they'd procured actually _going_ somewhere. Even when his hand came down and smacked her harshly on the ass, she did not relent in simply _being_. Her mind did not wander. It stayed firmly put, rooted in the way he fit so perfectly inside of her, at how each thrust hit in just the right way to make her tits bounce, at how her breathing grew more shallow, her sighs louder, her entire body lost in the euphoric notion that was Draco Malfoy.

"Mmm…" She heard her voice, but didn't recognize it. It sounded so lustful, so confident. "Harder, Master. Please."

He chuckled, grabbing at her pelvic bones and finding a good grip before he began to slowly piston in and out of her, the clit clamp adding to the sensation as he built a steady rhythm. Harder and harder he rocked inside of her, occasionally reaching around and tapping the clamp to change the speed, denying her the release she desperately craved again and again. Each time he felt her tighten around him, about to lose it, he would change it up, leaving her frustrated and worn. Soon, her panting turned to groans and sighs of wanton sexual determination.

"Who does this pussy belong to, Hermione?" he asked her, slowing down to grind himself into her at just the right angle to hit her g-spot.

She screamed in pleasure before replying, "You, Draco."

He repeated the motion, and again, received a scream from her. "Damn straight it does." One of his hands rested at the base of her spine, and his thumb brushed against the rim of her puckered asshole. "And this ass. You'd let me fuck this ass, wouldn't you?"

She was surprised to hear herself shouting, "Yes, Draco! Whatever you want. It's yours!"

"You're mine." He pressed his thumb against her, not inside, but enough to get her attention. Her hips were rocked back and forth with his thrusting, moving her ass against his hand and thus creating a steady on and off pressure there too that had her groaning in desperation for more. "What I want is you. All of you."

"You have me," she cried out, so close to the brink. "God, I'm… I'm gonna…"

"Are you going to come for me, Hermione? Are you going to be a good little pet and come for your Master?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"It b-belongs to you! This pussy belongs to you! My pussy! Ah! My ass! OH! My mouth, my tits, my body…!"

She opened her eyes, surprised to see him so serious in his expression as he met her eyes in the mirror. "What about that mind, Hermione?" He shoved into her particularly rough, making her shout something between 'fuck' and 'mmgod'. "Does that mind belong to me? Do you think about me when we're apart?"

"Ah! Oh God. All the time!"

His movements stopped for a moment, and he stroked down her back affectionately. "My good little princess." And then he was at it again, pistoning in and out of her with force and speed that forced her to scream over and over again. His praise, along with the sensation of the clamp and the way his cock hit inside of her forced her to come undone, and with a scream of his name, she came. So lost in her own orgasm, it took her a moment to realize he had been sent over the edge right along with her. His hips slowed, but he still had a few thrusts left in him as he filled her up with his cum, until he was spent. Then, all movement ceased while the two of them stared at each other in the mirror, panting and out of breath, and, above all else, lost in each other's eyes.

Finally, after what seemed of an eternity, Draco whispered, "Good girl." He withdrew himself, carefully considerate of her sensitivity, and grabbed her around the middle, pulling her upright. There, they watched the reflected version of Hermione as his warm cum trickled down her leg. "So beautiful…"

Hermione blushed scarlet, but he didn't allow her the luxury of hiding her face, instead tugging her over to the sofa and pulling her on top of him, cradling her within his arms. Though he was still, basically, dressed in his clothes, he carried a sense of defenselessness with him that she hadn't seen before, even as he removed her clit clamp, turned it off, and tossed it to the floor.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked, kissing her on the nose.

Hermione nodded, coming down from her high. "I loved it. I have to say, I've…" She chewed on her lower lip, forcing herself to be brave. "I've never come that way before. Being bent over like that."

"Better get used to it, then." He winked at her. "I always aim to please." He leaned down and kissed her sensually before pulling away to stare into her eyes.

Her mind began to work once again, and questions emerged that would have been asked had she not been so preoccupied with the thought of getting banged silly by Draco Malfoy. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I believe you just did."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "You know what I meant. -Are Blaise and Pansy's spouses comfortable with them… being together… all the time? Or do they know?"

"I would hope so," Draco chuckled, "They're married to each other, after all."

It was Hermione's turn to raise some eyebrows, and she sat up in his lap, gasping. "No!"

"Yes."

"But -why wear the masks, then?"

"Because they're married. Just because they like to fool around with each other doesn't mean they want to hide their relationship from others. Remember what I said about them loving an audience? Blaise told me it gets Pansy off when they're assumed to be having an affair."

Hermione soaked in his words, filtering through her moral compass and finding the idea quite romantic, in all honesty. "Hmm." She pressed her lips together, thinking. "That's… that's adorable, in some twisted way.- But they still swing, I take it? Or they wouldn't keep trying to get us in bed."

"They like to share others with each other. They wouldn't get involved with someone else without the other one."

"Interesting."

"Is it?" Draco sighed. "I find the entire thing rather blasé."

"Says the man who sleeps around on his wife with… me." Her voice grew quiet, and she averted her eyes momentarily to stare at the fireside. The flames licked at the air like snake tongues; a very fitting idea, indeed, considering she felt much more like a belly-slithering snake with each passing moment in this room with Draco (a married man.) What if Ron had come here during their marriage? She shuddered at the thought.

"Granger." She felt his fingers touch her cheek to guide her face back towards him. When their eyes met, an electric pulse of magic rippled through both of them. Hermione thought she imagined it for a moment, but she saw the skin on the back of his arm stand on end and realized it was real. "Don't assume to know me."

She sighed. "Why not?"

His thumb pad brushed along her cheekbone. "There's a reason I don't come to this floor with anyone else." He sat up straighter, bringing his face closer to hers. "You have no idea how excited I was when you fell into my lap three weekends ago."

Hermione felt vulnerable, but, also, highly in control at that moment. He'd said as much last weekend that he'd found her attractive since they were teens, so his small confession didn't surprise her in the least. What did surprise her, however, was the emotion it stirred within her chest; something between elation and adoration. It swelled inside of her till she felt as if might burst- and it did the moment she remembered his wife. She reached up to his hand -the one on her cheek, and pried it between them, staring at it. Draco looked confused.

"The X won't light up, Hermione. You know that."

"No." She shook her head, staring at his ring finger in perplexity. "You… you're not wearing a ring."

"No." He shook his head. "I'm not."

"But… you're married." Her eyes jerked up to his. "Aren't you?"

"Am I?" His eyes liquefied her insides with their cunning amusement.

"You said… you said you were."

"I did."

"But you're not?"

"Just confuses the Hell out of you, doesn't it?"

She released his hand, slowly, and let her own hands slip into her lap. Her voice was controlled, yet full of fury. "Explain. Now."

He scratched the tip of his nose, slipped a hand down over both of hers, and said, "Alright, pet. Alright." He leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away, and he ceased his movements, drawing his face back. "By all accounts, the press still thinks I'm a married man." She didn't respond, too afraid to ask questions, so he continued. "Malfoys don't divorce, you know. It simply isn't done. But my wife –my _ex_ -wife," he corrected, "Is as frigid as they come. Brought up with pureblood ideologies, and yet forgiving of muggle culture. A walking conundrum one would think would allow her to have an open mind about most things."

"You mean things like what happens in Bond."

"Look at that. Such a smart cookie." He tapped her forehead with his index finger, smirking. "Anyway, she tried to make it work, for a while. I loved her -she didn't love me." He shrugged, though his expression was hurt. "Eventually, we decided to call it quits. But as I've told you, Malfoys don't divorce. Such an ugly word, isn't it? Divorce?"

Hermione nodded solemnly. Yes, she knew all about that terrible word and just how horrible it could be.

"So, to the outside world, we both are still a loving, charitable couple."

"And in reality?" Hermione's heart sped quickly inside of her chest as it struggled to pump blood, which insisted on draining from her face.

"Reality says we signed the papers three months ago." He slid his hand up her arm, her shoulder, her neck, resting it just under her jaw. "We both agreed to keep it between us, for now. She isn't ready to part with my fortune, and I need her ties with investors -for the moment." His eyes swept over her face. "But when I'm here, with you, I forget about all of that."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she replied, colder than intended.

His face broke out into one of careful consideration. "Does it not?"

"You lied to me." She bore her eyes into his. "Why?"

"Don't look at it as a lie. More of… an omission of truth."

"A very Slytherin answer." She pulled up out of his arms and retrieved her dress, slipping it back on.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Why?" His voice was lulled, though it carried a hint of stress.

"I need… to process this." She searched around for her heels, which she had left by the door. She padded her way to them, slipped them on, and went back to the mirror to check her hair. Draco stood, tucking himself back into his pants before he approached her.

"But you're coming back, right?"

She turned to him, muddled with a variety of emotions, ranging from betrayed, to relief, to hurt. "Do you know what's been going through my mind since the night we found each other here, Draco Malfoy? I've been reprimanding myself for lusting over a married man. A _married_ man." She pushed against his chest with her hands, though there was hardly any effort to it. "And to think you've been toying with my head -to what? Get some rise out of me?"

"Hey." His voice commanded her attention. "That's insulting."

"You know what's insulting? Being lied to."

"I wasn't lying, Hermione. Not really." He appeared sorry, but he stood stiff like a statue, that arrogant Malfoy ego shimmering over him like a heat wave. "I did what I did to protect you- _and_ me."

"Protect me?" She laughed. "From what?"

"From me!" He threw his hands up into the air. "From my bloody infatuation with you! Has it not been evident, from the moment our paths crossed this time around, that I've felt a little more than lust towards you?"

She felt her heart tighten in her chest, and she let the fear take her. Quietly, she replied, "You could have just been _open_ with me. I would have understood."

"Would you? Would you have, _really_?" he sneered, crossing his arms. "Look at your reaction _now_."

"I'm reacting this way because you 'omitted the truth' from me. Not because you're a divorcee." She rolled her eyes. "Unless you've forgotten, I've been on that train longer than you have. Believe me, I understand the way people, especially the wizarding community, judge you based off of calling it quits. Practically insulting in every way." Her voice softened. "But, I suppose, I have to give you credit for telling me, in any case." She allowed herself to crack a smile. "Your secret's safe with me, Malfoy."

He smiled timidly, uncrossing his arms. "Draco," he corrected her. "-Will you come again?"

She tapped her finger to her chin, pretending to overthink the situation. "Well… I suppose we still have two more rooms, yes? It would be a shame to give up now." She extended her hand and offered it out to him. Draco quirked an eyebrow, stunned, and, slowly, took it.

"Next Friday?"

She kissed him on the cheek. "Next Friday sounds… wonderful. -But you have to do something for me."

"What's that?"

"You have to touch yourself," she whispered into his ear, "In the shower. When you're alone in your bed. I want you to touch yourself to the thought of me. Can you do that for me, Draco?"

He smirked. "Already do, pet. Already do."

* * *

"Draco Malfoy; a divorcee!" Luna smiled thoughtfully, putting the finishing touches on her newly embellished radish earrings she'd been working on nearly the entire morning Hermione had arrived at her door. "Well, that's news, isn't it?"

"But you knew that," Hermione frowned, setting her teacup down onto the coffee table in front of her.

"I knew he had a warmer aura about him, but I had no idea about his divorce," Luna shook her head.

Hermione gasped. "No. But… but you said… you said he had a secret… wasn't that…?"

"Oh. That?" Luna shook her head. "No, Hermione. That wasn't it." She held her radish earrings up to her ears. "What do you think? Do you think the periwinks will be drawn to them?"

"The peri-what?- No, Luna. Focus. If that's not his secret, then what is it?"

Luna grinned ear to ear as she fashioned the earrings on her earlobes. "I've told you. It isn't my place to say. Guess you'll just have to keep seeing him until he either tells you, or you figure it out."

Hermione buried her face into a sofa throw pillow, tempted to scream.


	4. Part 4

**Okay, so... I didn't mean to, but, I LIED! There will be FIVE parts, not four, to Bond! So yay!? There was just too much to fit in to a final chapter. But next one, alas, is the last. XD Hope everyone likes this. Chapter is broken up into 3 parts.**

 **Thank you Waymay for not making fun of me, even when I make obvious mistakes. XD Empire, chapter 3 is up! Go check it out! Waymay is creating a great story with this one, folks! Also, I've written a cute oneshot dramione titled: Pitch! Please check it out when you get a chance.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **The Studio**

* * *

 **"Carousel" by Melanie Martinez**

The Studio Room: if the name wasn't enough of a dead giveaway for Hermione, maybe it would be the tarps draping all around the gallery-like setup, paint canisters and brushes placed, seemingly random, at different stations. Draco walked the room, eyeing over each and every tool at his disposal, a smirk perched across his mouth.

"Remind me again how this is supposed to be sexually appealing?" asked Hermione as she slipped off her light jacket (it was rather chilly outside this evening) and placed it on a coat rack nearby, revealing her simple white t-shirt and black shorts, as per Draco's request for tonight to wear something 'she didn't mind getting messy in'. Down below she felt rather out of place amongst the partier goers. It was rave night, thankfully, so the lights had been turned down extra low so everyone could see the glow of their magical glow sticks that changed colors every few seconds. Hermione was given one at the door, and still wore it around her wrist now, matching Draco.

"How is this not?" he replied.

"Paint is _hardly_ something I think of when I imagine 'kink'."

"Why don't you take a closer look?"

Draco waited patiently as Hermione approached a nearby table, examining the different paint canisters there. Each of them were labeled, not with a color, but with a flavor. Strawberry. Treacle Tart. Dreamsicle. Chocolate. Vanilla Bean. Seaweed.

"They're edible."

He nodded.

"What about the canvas?"

"We're the canvas.- It's body paint."

"Oh." Her eyes went wide and a blush crept up her neck. "Oh!" Hermione giggled nervously. "I understand now." Wow, she felt embarrassed. Putting two and two together shouldn't have been difficult for her. She walked to another station, where different bins of marble-painted water rested. Some were mixes of reds, blues, and yellows while others held softer, more earthy shades. "What's this?"

Draco walked up next to her, arms tucked behind his back. "Marbling, I believe."

"Marbling?"

"It's a paint technique, procured from muggles, but perfected by wizards." He smirked. "Want to give it a go?"

"What does it do?"

"Look at that. You don't know everything, _do_ you?" Draco untucked his wand from a holster he fashioned around his belt and scourgified one of the basins, leaving the water clear. Next, he reached behind the basins, revealing several colored dropper bottles. As if he'd done this a thousand times, he picked up a green one and a silver, placing a drop each in the basin. The water began to swirl and dance on it's own, making an intricate marble design with the two colors. He, then, hovered a hand over the water before dipping his hand in. When he brought it back out, it was stained just like the water, swirled in emerald and grey.

"Oh! Like a temporary tattoo!" Hermione exclaimed, excited. "That's very interesting." She reached out to Draco's hand -it was dry to the touch, and the paint did not come off as she rubbed her fingers over his palm. "What's your favorite color?" she asked him.

Draco let her trace her fingers all about his hand as he replied, "You'll laugh if I tell you."

"Let me guess. Green?" She shot him a snarky smile, and he shrugged. "How very Slytherin."

"I've always liked the color, even before I knew what house I'd be in." He guided her hand over to the different basins. "Your favorite color?"

"I rather like blue."

"Blue it is." He stopped her hand above a blue and black design and, holding her by the forearm, delicately pushing her fingers, then her palm, then the rest of her all the way to just above the wrist. Hermione realized, though, that he wasn't done when he did not remove her hand from the water but reached over and fished out another dropper bottle. He cradled it in his palm, so she couldn't see which color he'd chosen. "Close your eyes."

"You're not going to make the marbling look like a penis, are you?"

"Do you think I'd be so childish?"

"Yes."

"I guarantee you, I wouldn't. -Close your eyes."

She did, and the water tingled as he added the next drop of paint. After a moment, he removed her hand and bade her to look. When she did, her heart stopped.

There, painted amongst the swirling blue and black marbling on the back of her hand, was a silver dragon that beat its wings up and down, mid flight. It gracefully moved amongst her hand, weaving between the paint swirls..

"See? Far less childish than you imagined," he winked at her, jumpstarting her heart in her chest again.

"It's… beautiful," she stared at the dragon in awe. "And so detailed. How did you do it?"

"I'll tell you later." He reached up with his painted and and glided it gracefully down the side of her cheek, her jaw, her neck. He was so affectionate, Hermione began to wonder if this was really him at all, or some elaborate prankster with Polyjuice potion. Because… this… this was nice. The way he stared into her eyes. The calm way in which he drank her in like a tall glass of lemonade. The careful consideration he took as he slipped her hand in his and brought it up to his cheek. The dragon danced along her hand, nearly distracting her from Draco's eyes, which had faded into a dark charcoal. "I'm so very conflicted right now."

"Are you?" Hermione smiled, coy. "Why is that?" She watched as her hand stroked up to his hairline, and, on its own, raked through his pale blonde tresses. Draco's eyelids fluttered shut for half a moment before he inhaled deeply and brought them back open again.

"See, half of me wants to ravish you right here and now," he smirked, "But the other half…"

"The other half?" she asked.

Draco's smirk turned into a dangerously entertained grin. "Wants to do this." And with that, he released her at once and dashed past her to the table. Hermione, realizing what he planned, laughed and ran after him.

"Don't you dare-!" But Draco had already grabbed up the nearest canister of edible paint, pried open the top, and splashed directly into her chest. "OH!" Hermione squealed. It was so cold! Cold and wet and _messy_! She could feel where the splatter effect splashed the paint up her neck and over her arms. Tiny specks of yellow landed on her chin and lips. Lemon flavored, she noted. She stared, wide eyed and dumbfounded for half a moment before shouting, "You git!" Like a vengeful toddler, she dashed to the table and attempted to pry off a lid, but Draco's arms darted around her and tried to pull her hands off, both of them laughing and shouting at one another to let go. Hermione found the upper hand when she elbowed him in the ribs and removed the lid. Draco, in retaliation, wrapped his arms around her stomach and pulled her flesh against him, chuckling.

"Uh oh." He teased. "Now you're stuck."

"Hardly." Hermione took the collateral damage and dumped the canister over both of their heads, spilling red paint down into their hair and faces.

"You little sneak!" Draco laughed as he tugged her away from the tables, released her, and pulled out his wand. With a flick, he opened each and every canister of paint.

"That's cheating!"

"That's magic."

"We can stop right now," she offered, her heart beating away in her chest. This childish act -it was thrilling. And even though they were most certainly not using the paints for their intended purposes, it was oddly… stimulating. Being able to release -to laugh -to let go. Not even control this time. Just let go of her strifes… Being able to enjoy the little, playful flirtations without judgement. To her, this was what she had missed with Ron. It was what she craved since their separation. And here it was, in _Bond_ , with Draco Malfoy of all people. For the first time since their night in the Sensory Room, she saw the real him peek through. Inside, he was gentle, kind, playful even. She could see it in his eyes as he hovered a canister of paint above them -he was letting go, too.

"You think I'd concede to a truce?" he chided. "How very Gryffindor."

But Hermione wasn't one to give up either. Instead of drawing her wand, she did the one thing she knew would distract him. She reached down to the bottom of her shirt and peeled the soppy material up and over her head. As she tossed it aside and smirked, Draco raised an eyebrow, leveling his wand to his side. The canister floated down to the ground.

"And that… that is very Slytherin…" he whispered, licking his paint covered lips.

Hermione shrugged. "I learned from the best."

"Indeed you did." And like a child tiring of one toy when given something shiny and new, he tossed his wand away and beckoned her with a curl of his finger. In an instant, his boyish demeanor was replaced with that authoritarian essence that was his Dom personality. It was all in the eyes - and it made Hermione's insides turn to mush. "Come here, pet."

Hermione did as was told of her, walking in slow, gentle strides until she stood before him. It was so easy to switch the deviant on inside of her. All he had to do was look at her that very way, as if she were the only thing on Earth he craved, and she melted into a ready-to-please Sub. She didn't reckon she'd ever be able to tell Ginny about this -she'd never believe that Hermione could give up control so easily.

Draco extended his marbled hand, covered in edible paint, and traced it down her side, resting it on her hip. "My, my… what a dirty girl you've become, Hermione. -How did you manage that?"

Hermione grinned playfully back at him. "You."

"I _did_ do this, didn't I?" The Slytherin looked pleased with his work. "But you're not dirty enough." He leaned down and licked her painted ear along its shell. "Do you think my cock inside you would remedy that?"

And just like that, Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, lost in his trance. "Mmm… yes, Master."

"Say it."

"Your cock inside me would make me a very dirty girl."

"Merlin, I love it when you talk like that." The hand on her hip slipped behind, grabbing her ass cheek and giving it a firm squeeze. "Remove your clothes, pet." Hermione anxiously tugged down her shorts and underwear, not caring if she looked desperate in the process. She turned around so Draco could unclasp her bra, and with her now standing full in the nude, he said, "Go stand and face the wall."

A chill of excitement ran down Hermione's spine, and like the good girl she wanted to be for him, she (very nearly skipped) over to the wall. She only waited a moment before his hands wrapped around her wrists and brought them up above her head.

"If I let you turn around, will you stay this way? With your hands above your head? No matter what I do to you?"

"Yes," she whispered, the tension building between her thighs.

"And why is that?"

"Because I'd do anything to please you."

He released one of her wrists to smack her on the ass, making Hermione yip. "Damn right you would. And I'd do anything to please you, so long as you obey... That's how this relationship works, doesn't it, pet?"

The atmosphere thickened, and both held perfectly still, feeling the moment out. His words echoed in Hermione's mind, over and over -one word in particular. How did he mean that? Did he mean… well, surely he didn't mean… because… well, did he? She realized that he wanted an answer, but she was fearful of reading into it the wrong way. What were they doing? Wasn't this just all some fun and games? Some way to relieve the sexual frustrations built inside of them? But was it? Or was it…

She would need more evidence, she concluded, before she knew how to assess something as heavy as that word. Because, should she look at it the wrong way, her heart might get smashed. Even though… deep inside… she desperately wanted it to _mean_ something. To know what they were doing wasn't just physical. That he felt it too -this connection. And he said as much before, hadn't he? So why was it she was so afraid to admit to it, too?

The silence between them built until Draco, as if sensing her apprehension, alleviated it by kissing down her paint covered cheek and licking it gingerly with his tongue. "Think about it," he told her. Hermione blushed as red as the paint in her hair.

"Alright…" she whispered back.

"Good girl."Draco released her other hand and guided her around to face him. Splattered in bits of red and yellow, he looked like a poster child for Gryffindor. He still commanded his dominance over her, but his eyes were soft as they stared into hers. The satisfied smile he wore was difficult to miss. "Hands above your head, now." And, without pressing the subject further, he backed away from her, switching the softness back to firm. He walked over to the tables across the room, picked out a deep green labeled 'mint' and a cup of paintbrushes, and strolled back to her. After he sat his tools at his feet, he removed his button down shirt and used it to wipe a bit off paint off her face.

"Thanks," she whispered.

He smirked, tossing the shirt aside. And then, like a man at confession, he kneeled before her, purposefully ghosting his breath across her stomach. His eyes glanced up at her as he pushed her legs further apart and traced his tongue along the dip in her belly button. Hermione inhaled sharply as her arms twitched above her. She willed herself to be strong, even when Draco trailed his tongue down her lower abdomen and then over to her left pelvic bone before giving it a gentle nibble. His hand, meanwhile, reached down to a paintbrush and, as he pulled away, he painted something along her stomach with slow, careful strokes. It tickled against Hermione's skin, but she dared not move until he finished.

"What does it say?" she asked, though she thought she might be able to tell as she glanced down.

Draco confirmed her suspicions. "Draco Malfoy."

Hermione laughed. "How conceited."

"I'm just claiming what's mine," he shrugged, tossing the paintbrush over his shoulder. His hand went into the paint, then, and then rested against her thigh, leaving a distinctive print. It dried almost instantly. "Mine." It curled around to her bum. "And this." Up to her side. "Mine." Smirking he dipped both hands into the paint, stood, and cupped her breasts. Hermione, desperate for the touch, groaned in pleasure as he tweaked her nipples. "These." One hand still on a breast, he took his other and trailed his painted fingers over her lips. "Mine."

She darted her tongue out and tasted the mint as she licked at his fingers. Draco's eyes danced with lustful entertainment as he watched her lap at them hungrily. "Yours," she whispered. Her arms began to ache, but she didn't want to disappoint him. Instead, she licked his fingers clean and begged him with her eyes. Draco groaned as she deep throated his fingers with ease. Slowly, he took those fingers, brought them up to his own lips, sucked on the first two, and slipped them between her legs.

He drew gentle circles along her clit as he whispered, "Mine."

"All yours," she moaned, throwing her head back against the wall and closing her eyes. The tension built before this moment had Hermione ravenous for his touch, and it didn't take her long to be sent into her first orgasm with Draco's fingers sliding into her to stretch her as her muscles constricted in wave after wave of bliss. It only added to the already euphoric feeling, so much so that Hermione forgot herself and dropped her arms to wrap them around his neck and pull him in for a fierce, electrified kiss. His fingers still inside of her, he began to pump her into a steady rhythm as their tongues slid against each other and lips crashed hungrily again and again. He soon forgot himself as well, slamming his chest against hers as he drove them into the wall, fucking her with his fingers and earning the sexiest sounds from her throat as she moaned in pleasure. Hermione kissed under his jaw, just the way he liked, and Draco's knees nearly buckled. She took the opportunity for control, concentrating with everything she had as she reached down and unbuckled his pants. Draco removed his hand from between her legs to help her, and within moments they freed his cock from the confines of his boxers. Hermione stood on her tiptoes to angle them, and Draco kissed her passionately as he steadied her hips and drove home, slamming himself inside of her.

The sex that followed was rough, dominating. Draco's hands searched every bit of Hermione's body while she took every inch of his cock over and over again. The paint smeared as they grabbed and ground and bit and licked. Soon, Draco's signature was nothing more than a faded, smudged version of itself. Not that he cared. He was too busy whispering filthy things in Hermione's ear to take notice that his penmanship had been permanently ruined.

"Filthy little Granger, taking my cock like a hungry little slut. Who does that pussy belong to, Hermione?"

"Ohmm… mmy.. G-god… you, Draco. You."

"Yeah, that's right. And you'll take every inch of my cock, because you love it. You love it shoved deep inside of your warm, wet cunt, don't you? I bet you're so hungry to taste my cum down your throat. Bet you'd take it all with a smile on your face."

"Fuck!" She bit down on her lower lip to keep from screaming. "Don't stop, Draco. Don't stop."

"You like it when I talk dirty to you, pet? Does it get you off?"

"Yes!"

"I bet I could call you anything right now, and you'd let me, wouldn't you? So long as I was fucking you. Just. Like. This."

"Mmfmm… yes…"

"Tell me what you are. You're my litle slave, aren't you?"

"God, yes! Whatever you want, Draco!" she scrambled out, loving the degradation. Not because she actually believed it, but because he was using words like 'my' in front of them. She knew, somehow, that Draco didn't mean a word of his slander except for that one word. It was all a part of the show, and she reveled in it.

A hand rested against her throat, firm but careful. There was just enough pressure to feel the possession, but not enough to hurt her. Draco's eyes found hers, and he whispered, "My beautiful little muggleborn." And with that, he kissed her, dipping his tongue into her mouth as he slowed down his thrusting to a mild jog. His touches softened. The hand around her throat relaxed, and his other hand came up to her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He let her set the pace, let her guide him down to the floor where she crawled on top of him and slipped down onto his hard shaft and possessed him like a siren. He let her command him, telling him where to put his hands and how to caress her skin. He let her come at her leisure, one, two, three times. Each time, he would feed her lines of praise of how well she's done. And when she came a fourth time, she was the one to tell him to come right along with her, rocking their bodies into a symphony of pants and ecstasy.

Hermione didn't care she was covered head to toe in paint, not having bothered to clean herself as she threw herself into bed that night. She wanted the memories there for the morning. She wanted to smell him on her skin when she woke up. Wanted to see the dragon still dancing on the back of her hand.

She wanted to remember this night, always.

* * *

 **A Secret Well Kept**

* * *

 **"** **Sit Still, Look Pretty" by Daya**

"Have a drink with us, Granger."

As Hermione approached the back corner lounge that Draco, Pansy, and Blaise made their permanent hide-away on Tier One, she noticed tonight's festivities before her arrival included shots of swirling green alcohol bewitched to spin like a twister in its shot glass. Six empty glasses sat beside two untouched ones, and when Draco gestured to them, she could only infer they were ordered for her.

She stared uneasily at the shots and up to the bar, checking to see if a certain bartender was on duty when Pansy stepped beside her and whispered in her ear, "Oh, don't you worry about that. We poured the shots ourselves."

"We're celebrating!" Blaise toasted as he tilted a large bottle of fire whiskey to his lips. He looked as lit as a bonfire.

"Blaise's sister just gave birth to a baby girl," Draco explained, leaning up on the lounge sofa to place one of the shots in her hand. The smirk resting on his lips gave Hermione's a jolt as she knocked back the first shot. The liquor was sour, like green apples, but far less sweet. Still, it felt good crawling down her throat and left a tingle against her tongue.

"Wow." She scrunched her eyes up at the taste and slammed her shot glass down on the table. "Oh. Congratulations, Zabini."

"You can call me Blaise," he cooed.

"He's only saying that so he can call you Hermione," Draco shot back, shutting down Blaise's advances almost immediately. His hand extended out, and she didn't need prompting this time. Falling into his lap was as simple as falling into bed after a long day at the office. She allowed her legs to drape over the sofa as Draco wrapped his arm around her stomach and tugged her to his chest. A kiss on the cheek was her reward, and it tingled like fire licking at her skin. It was amazing how comfortable they were with each other this time. Pretenses aside, they both now fully understood their attraction for one another, and neither one seemed to want to let it go so easily.

"What's her name?" Hermione asked Blaise.

"Angelique." Blaise replied. "Beautiful little thing, too."

"He's such a proud uncle," Pansy patted her husband on the cheek. "Even if he weren't three sheets to the wind, he'd still wear that shite eating grin."

"Ah, bugger off, Pans." Blaise turned on his wife and pinched her in the side. She gasped, smacking him in the arm, and suddenly they were ravenous wolves attacking each other's faces with their lips.

"You know, they're starting to grow on me," Hermione whispered, turning her face into Draco's neck to allow her breath to ghost his skin. She made the bold choice of taking the reins this evening, despite her knowledge of Draco enjoying his role as a dominant personality. After her discussion with Luna, and last week's amazing sexual experience( still the highlight of her week), Hermione concluded she couldn't take the question of his secret any longer, and she would get it out of him tonight, one way or another. She heard his sharp intake of breath as she grazed her teeth along the shell of his ear.

"Speaking of things that are growing," Draco muttered, slipping his hand around her wrist like the assertive male he was to keep her from running her fingers through his hair. To prove his point, he adjusted his position on the lounge, pressing his erect prick against her bum. It further cradled her in his lap, knocking her dominance down a few pegs. Damn. He was good. Too good.

"Dance with me," Hermione suggested, trailing her nose along his cheek until the tip pressed against his own, pointed nose.

"Mmm… but pet, there's so many other things we could be doing with our bodies," he said through hooded, lust-filled lids.

"I want a dance," she said again. It was her plan to get him out to that dance floor, one way or another, where he couldn't try his way with her in a dark corner. There would be people around. Lots of people. It would knock his assertion down a few pegs, and give Hermione the control she needed to ask her questions. "Please?" she coaxed his ear with a soft whimper. "For me?" She was getting better at this, she realized. Taking control of Draco Malfoy was just a matter of knowing his weaknesses.

Merlin, she got braver every day with him, didn't she? His admittance to being a single man lifted a huge weight off her shoulders, and now, she found herself fantasizing not only about him dominating her in the corners of public settings, but also kissing her, whispering in her ear, and feeding her blueberries while they laid in bed. Not like she knew what lying in a bed with him felt like. Their times at Bond were intimate, yes, but clinically so. Still, he'd admitted to feeling something more than lust for her in their last encounter, hadn't he? She wondered if she could trust it. Trusting Draco Malfoy was like taking a chance with a snake in the grass. It was no wonder he was sorted into Slytherin. Still, she was a Gryffindor; a lion. She wouldn't back down from a challenge, even if it meant a snake bite to her metaphorical paw.

Draco growled low in his throat, enticed by the way she begged him. After a moment to clear his senses, she heard him mutter out (almost annoyed), "Yeah, alright. One dance."

"Mmm… thank you, _Draco_." She bit on his name like it was a candy cane being snapped in half. His resolve quickly followed that candy cane and snapped as well.

"Anything for you," he murmured, strained. Hermione leaned back, smirked, and climbed off his lap before grabbing his hand and yanking him off his seat. Draco's eyes narrowed behind his mask, but he allowed her to lead him into the throng of partiers and into the center of the storm. Loud bass vibrated against their bodies as the lights danced above their heads. Hermione grinned at the deplorable expression Draco's face as some frat-boy looking wizard bumped shoulders with him.

"You alright?" she teased as she began to rock her hips to the guitar chords umping through the speakers. 'Club' was never Hermione's first choice of music, but here at Bond, the music seemed a mix of rock with hints of remixed electro. It made it easy to find a sway with her hips. Draco nodded, allowing himself to relax. His shoulders, legs, and hips began to move along with the beats, and, very slowly, a smile appeared on his face.

"I hate people," he admitted with a laugh, having to nearly shout to be heard over the roar of the music and the 'woo' girls around the floor.

"What?" Hermione could hear him just fine, but she was surprised by his confession. "Why do you hate people?"

He wrapped an arm around her back and tugged her to him, smirking as he forced her to dance in his personal bubble. "Have you met people? They're the worst."

"That's not true. I'm part of the congregation of people."

"You're a person." He motioned around the dancefloor. "People are something else entirely." Suddenly, he put his other hand around her hip and spun her around, grinding into her as she was forced up against him, back to front. She felt his hands rest there, then, on her pelvic bones while he swayed them into a commanding rhythm with their hips. "You look gorgeous in that dress, pet."

Hermione blushed, glancing down at her strapless pouf dress made of silky satin. Maroon. Ginny's favorite on her. This dress had been hanging in her closet for years, because Ron always hated maroon, saying it reminded him of his mother's sweaters she'd send at Christmas. It was nice to see it appreciated.

"Thank you," she replied over her shoulder. She felt the urge to slap his hand away as it trailed up the side of her stomach, just under the curve of her breast -but she caught herself at the last moment. She needed him in a good mood if she wanted answers. "Draco?"

"Mmm… yes, pet?" He slowed their grinding down, guiding her hips with a dip of his hand to her lower stomach. Pressed against him like this, Hermione could feel his want for her, yet again.

"When are you going to take me to Tier Three?"

The hand on her stomach tightened, and his movements stopped, momentarily, before building back up again. "Never."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes and attempted to turn around, but Draco kept her in place, commandingly dipping his face into her neck to leave kiss after soft kiss along her skin. His distraction worked for half a moment, until Hermione came to her senses and turned her head towards his, blocking his access off of her throat. "What do you mean 'never'? What's on the Third Tier?"

"It's not for us," he tells her, movements slowing, yet again. "Trust me."

"So, tell me what it is, then. Sate my curiosity."

Draco chuckled. "I don't think that would ever be possible, Hermione."

"You know what I mean."

His hand moved down, grazing between her legs tauntingly before moving back up to rest against her lower abdomen. "I'm bored of dancing. Pick a room."

"You can't just change the-" She was cut off by his lips as they pressed against hers. He tasted of alcohol, and spearmint, and seduction. Whatever Hermione was going to say was instantly forgotten. Draco had a way of doing that to her -of short circuiting her brain even when she knew damn well she was right. She leaned back against him, a hand reaching up to cup his cheek as he kissed her, slow and sensual. Hermione, lost in his embrace, moved her lips with his, tongues finally touching lightly between breaths of air. Maybe, she thought, questions could wait. Distractions were too much to deal with, like the sudden heat that flushed over her skin, or the dampness in her knickers.

Draco broke the kiss to whisper, "I can't just _what_ , pet? Weren't you about to say something?"

"I've forgotten," she muttered, closing her eyes and chewing on her bottom lip. Draco took the opportunity to grab her hand and tug her away from the dancefloor. His eyes were two grey pools of entrancement that hypnotized her to follow him. They never left her face as he backed his way through the crowd until they made it to the bar, where he ordered them two more shots.

"And don't sully it up, Jezabelle," he told the bartender who they all presumed spiked Hermione's drink her first night here. "Don't think for a second your little stunt went unnoticed." Jez rolled her eyes, but put her hands where they could watch as she poured them both a shot each of some Russian vodka. "To you." Draco smirked, clinking his glass with hers.

It was, then, that Hermione remembered, "The Third Tier. What's on it?"

Draco narrowed his eyes and tossed back the shot. "Damn. And here I thought we could have some fun."

"We can, once you tell me."

"You're testing my patience."

"And you're testing mine. Tell me, or I swear, I'll leave right now."

"Would you?"

"Yes."

He called her bluff. "Go on, then."

Hermione blinked back at him. "You'd really let me walk out that door?"

"I wouldn't _particularly_ like to see you go, no."

A slender, good looking wizard popped up behind Hermione, startling her as leaned in and said, "Bet he'd love to watch you leave, though." The man thrust out his hand to Hermione. "Name's Gregory."

"Oh. Um. Hello." Hermione, politely, took his hand and shook it. Draco's cheeks tinted red in agitation at the sight. "Hermione."

"Hermione. What a fetching name -well, fetching name for a fetching witch, no?"

"She's taken," Draco grumbled, tapping his fingers along the bar top. He made no motion to move, however, statuesque in his stance.

"Is she?" Gregory turned his attention on Draco, noticing the mask. "Looks like you are too, mate. If I'm not mistaken, isn't that what that mask means?" His face spun back around to Hermione, green eyes glistening. "Care to dance?"

Hermione looked over Greg's shoulder, to Draco, who appeared tempted to chuck his empty shot glass into the back of Gregory's head. He gave Hermione a look of 'what will you do now?' and pursed his lips. It was tempting (boy, was it ever) to say yes to Greg. But Hermione was no child, and games were not her specialty. She felt something for Draco, be it lust or something deeper (she wasn't entirely sure), and she didn't want to pretend to be interested in someone else.

"I'm sorry, Gregory. I'd like to politely decline. As it happens, I _am_ taken."

Gregory raised a curious eyebrow, gesturing behind him, to Draco. "This prick?"

"Yes." Hermione smirked, meeting eyes with the jealous blonde leaned against the bar top. "That prick."

Gregory, knowing when he'd been defeated, nodded and said, "Well, if you change your mind…" He blew Hermione a kiss before walking far down to the other end of the bar and chatting up some redheaded witch instead.

"Prick?" Draco beckoned her attention back around at him.

"Taken?" she mused, smirking.

Draco rolled his shot glass around on the table and sat it upright again. "Finish the final room with me, and I'll tell you what's on Tier Three."

"That's cheating."

"That's a power play," he grinned.

"I could just get Gregory to escort me to Tier Three," she challenged.

Draco came prepared. "VIP's only, pet."

Her lips turned down. "Let me guess. You're a VIP."

"Of course. I'm a Malfoy."

"What about Pansy and Blaise? Are they VIP's?" Hermione turned her direction towards the lounges in the back corner, but found them occupied by a new set of wizards and witches. Damn. They'd already gone up to Tier Two.

"Looks like I'm your only bet," Draco teased, stepping up behind her.

"What is it with you and standing behind me?"

"It makes you wet."

"Does not."

"Bet on it?"

Hermione spun around to face him, and, even though he was a head taller, she still commanded authority. "I'm willing to bet there's something you're keen on not telling me."

"There's plenty I'm not keen on telling you. You'll have to be more specific."

"Luna told me you have a secret," Hermione blurted out.

"Did she now?" He chuckled, leaning his face forward. "Did she happen to mention what my secret was?"

"If I knew, it wouldn't be a secret."

"I've always adored your intellectuality." His fingers stroked down her cheek.

"Did you sleep with Luna?"

Draco snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "Are we playing trivia, now? Well, I adore bursting your bubble -so no. I've never slept with Loony Lovegood."

Hermione grasped at straws. "You're still married."

"You test my patience," Draco growled under his breath. "I wouldn't lie to you about something like that."

"Then what is it?" Hermione glanced up towards the ceiling. "It has to do with Tier Three, doesn't it? Your secret?" He pulled away from her then, trying his best to appear unbothered, but Hermione saw his tell immediately. "It is, isn't it?"

"Let it go, pet." His voice was daunting.

Hermione's red X lit up on the back of her hand, and they both stared down at it in surprise.

"I should go," she muttered, turning her eyes to the floor.

Draco sighed. "Hermione, wait. -I didn't mean to upset you."

"But you have." She swallowed hard. "And… and I suddenly want to go."

He didn't try to stop her, still staring at the glowing, red X. "I… al-alright. Will you come again?" He nowhere near resembled the confident man he was moments ago. He looked small and… innocent, somehow. Hermione didn't know that was even remotely possible for the ex-Slytherin.

"Will you be honest with me?"

He sighed again. "Eventually…"

"Not good enough."

"I can't tell you right now."

"Oh, but you'll tell me if I finish the rooms? Do you know what that makes this," she motioned between them, "sound like? I think I've misunderstood the situation."

"What did you think it was?" he asked gently.

"I… I'm not sure."

"That X says you're unhappy with me."

"You think? I'm …going to go."

"Hermione-"

"-I'm not some piece of meat. This has been… educational. Thank you." She threw back her shot and slammed the glass down on the table. "And thank you for the drink." She turned to walk away, and that's when Draco said it.

"I've already admitted to caring about you. I don't know how much clearer I can make it."

It stopped her dead in her tracks. The X faded almost immediately, and she looked back over her shoulder at him. "So make it clearer, then."

"I can't. -Just… come up to the room with me."

It hurt Hermione to do it, but she lost all want to go to Tier Two. "Some other time," she said quietly, but loud enough so that he could hear. "I… um… I have to go."

"Why?" he sounded pained.

"If you don't know that by now, you really don't care about me at all." With that, she turned away from him and made her way to the front door, leaving for the first time without having made it to Tier Two. But she refused to be a pawn in some sexual game. He could either comeclean, or… or he could lose her completely. It was his choice.

* * *

 **The Elevator**

* * *

 **"Migraine" by Twenty One Pilots**

Surprised, Hermione stared down at the envelope that arrived in her work post this morning. Scarlet had made some teasing remark that it smelled like cologne, and that it must be from some wizard Hermione was courting in secret. Hermione didn't have the gall to tell Scarlet she wasn't far off. Though she hadn't seen it (right side up) in years, she recognized Draco Malfoy's elegant script any day. Her name glimmered in green ink on the front, and on the back was a black seal, two serpents coiling around each other pressed in the wax. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind who sent her this; the only question that weighed on her tongue was why. Why would he send her anything at all? They hadn't spoken in over two weeks.

They had been some of the most miserable two weeks of her adult life.

She picked up the envelope around lunch time, finally gathering the courage to open it (but not before taking a nice whiff of rosewood and parchment.) Carefully, she peeled off the wax stamp and removed a thick cardstock with words written in the same, meticulous script. It read as followed:

 _'_ _Draco Malfoy cordially invites Hermione Granger to Bond's masquerade ball this Friday evening, beginning promptly at 9PM. Reservations at Madam Mystique's for drinks prior to the evening's events, should Miss Granger accept the invitation. He would like to share his secret, and feels terrible about his transgressions. Draco Malfoy also requests that Hermione Granger, should she agree to accompany him as his date this evening, must not, under any circumstances, wear undergarments. Please reply promptly. -D.M.'_

Hermione's eyes went wide in the bold choice of his invitation, and she read over it three more times to make sure she didn't miss a word. Draco Malfoy, in third person, had asked her to drinks and dancing at a masquerade event at Bond? Could this be real? Her heart fluttered. Yes, this was most definitely real. The paper in her hand confirmed it.

But… why? Why would he? After their falling out, she'd spent most of her weekend tucked away in her flat, shutting off her floo and eating ice cream in bed. Everything had been so up in the air after she walked away, because he couldn't tell her his secret. And now… now he wanted to come clean? Could she trust it?

She pondered over her response, and her feelings, for nearly an hour before coming to a conclusion. Even before she replied, she knew what her answer would be; she could already feel the forgiveness in her heart. Reaching for her own stationery, she plucked up her quill out of the ink bottle she'd left it dipped in and wrote,

 _'_ _Hermione Granger politely accepts Draco Malfoy's invitation. She would like to inquire as to a time to meet for drinks, and regretfully declines Draco Malfoy's request in her undergarment choices. -Sincerely, H.G.'_

On her lunch break, she floo'd to Diagon Alley and used a community post owl (for a small fee) to reply to him. She didn't own an owl of her own, and discretion with a community owl might make be more prudent, what with his under wraps failed marriage. She wondered when he'd come clean to the world about it, or if he ever would. Surely he didn't mean to keep a front for the wizarding community forever?

She received a reply five minutes till clock-out at the end of a lengthy stretch of work. Scarlet knocked on her door to hand her a new envelope addressed to her in the same green ink, though this time there was a small snitch sketched next to her name.

 _'_ _Greetings, Hermione Granger. Draco Malfoy sends his regards and anticipates a frivolous night of mischievousness and foolish merriment. He would like to, also, thank you for giving him one more chance. However, he wishes to inform you that should you not comply to his demand (not request) on your lack of undergarments, he will be forced to, quote, 'punish you.' It's your call, pet. Anticipate a package in your personal post by tomorrow afternoon, at which time, more details will be given. –Sincerely, D.M.'_

One more chance… yes. She could do that. After all, drinks… now that was something out in the open. Hermione smiled, pulling out a piece of chocolate from her desk drawer and unwrapping it. As she popped it in her mouth, she wondered whether or not to reply. A package? She'd already been dealt _his_ package… blush crept along her face as she tucked away the thought. She wasn't some silly school girl, but she sure felt like one. Especially since this -tryst? Friendship with benefits? What to label it as? _Relationship_ reverberated in her mind, but she pushed it aside – was a secret. But drinks, outside of Bond… perhaps he really meant what he said.

To be safe, she tucked away both of his notes into her work robes to take home. The elevator ride up to the atrium had her bouncing on her heels. That was, until the elevator doors opened and she came face to face with the object of her desire – and his wife.

 _Ex-_ wife, she reminded herself, but it didn't stop the sinking feeling in her gut as her eyes connected with his. They stared at once another, Draco and Hermione, both like trees rooted to their spots. As wizards and witches filed off of the elevator, Hermione stayed put, trying very hard not to scream. The witch that stood next to him – Circe, was she ever beautiful. Long, flowing chestnut hair that fell well past her shoulders matched prettily with her hazel colored eyes. Her skin was nearly as pale as Draco's, making her resemble a beautiful china doll. Even her figure was cinched in just the right ways to give off the appeal of a sexual vixen. And her lips… how were her lips so full? So naturally pink? How was there not a blemish on her face?

The glistening diamond ring on her left finger confirmed it -this was, most certainly, Astoria Malfoy. Not that she would admit it out loud, but after his confession to being recently divorced, she'd gone archive diving in the Ministry Records Department to figure out just who managed to put a ring on Slytherin's, once, most eligible bachelor.

Unfortunately, Hermione hesitated just a moment too long to step off of the elevator, and much to her horror, Astoria stepped inside, beckoning Draco with an extended hand in his direction. "Draco, what's wrong with you? You're letting the lacewing flies into your mouth, dear. Get on the elevator, and let's go."

Draco's attention snapped after a few more seconds, and he closed his jaw, pairing apologetic eyes to Hermione as he squared his shoulders and stepped on to the elevator. And, even more awkwardly, Astoria had taken to one side of it, and, seeing as how Hermione was on the other, he was forced to stand between the two woman as the door shut. Astoria pushed the floor 5 button -The Department of International Magical Cooperation. Only one floor lower than her own, The Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. What on Earth business could the two of them have at the D.O.I.M.C.?

"What floor, dear?" Astoria asked, turning her eyes on the brunette. Hermione's eyes widened, and she jerked her head forward as she muttered, "Floor four, please." The letters tucked in her robes burned against her -or, maybe, that was just the crippling guilt.

She didn't know why she felt that way, but she did. And, even though she was assured it was an act, it made her stomach turn in knots when Astoria reached over and brushed a fallen piece of hair out of Draco's eyes. "There. Now you look handsome."

"And I didn't before?" Draco rolled his eyes, turning them down to the floor. It was a mistake, because the floor was so polished that their reflections glimmered back at them, and he caught Hermione staring. She, immediately, turned her head away from the pair and tried to count how long she could hold her breath.

One… two… three… four…

It didn't do anything but remind her of being bent over a chair and forced to count each smack on her ass that Draco bestowed to her. Her cheeks flushing with pink, she closed her eyes and swallowed. Merlin, no. That didn't help either. Because she could imagine the taste of his prick on her tongue as she'd gone down on him. Everything she did to forget about him only made his image that much stronger in her mind. She willed her eyes back open as the elevator came to a stop -to the fourth floor. Relieved, Hermione tore out of the elevator before the doors had swung all the way open. She didn't dare turn around to watch as the doors closed behind her. She waited until she heard them definitively shut before she turned back around, counted to one hundred, and climbed on board a new elevator, tempted to scream.

When she arrived out of the floo into her quaint, one-bedroom loft, she threw herself down onto her bed and hugged her pillow tight. Her arms, her legs, her heart -everything ached. It didn't matter if it was a ruse -seeing him with her… it was painful. More painful than she'd ever anticipated.

* * *

The next day, like clockwork, a package was delivered via a large barn owl through her window. Since she lived on the fifth floor, she left it open most days when was sure it wouldn't rain, just in case the post came. Thanks to a cloaking charm, the muggles in her neighborhood never noticed when owls would come and go. Just like this time, when she arrived home from a terribly boring day of work to find the package, and the owl, in the middle of her living room. That was odd. Usually, owls just dropped and left without a thought. Perhaps this one was tired from a long trip? She approached it, and immediately, the owl hooted with glee.

"Hello," she told it, "Erm… are you hungry?"

The owl hooted again, and she ignored the package for the time being to pull out some raspberries from her fridge and place them in a bowl on her kitchen counter. The owl followed her, landing gracefully next to the bowl before chowing down.

Unfortunately, that left Hermione alone with her thoughts- and the package that beckoned across the way. Even if it weren't adorned in a silver bow, she'd still know who it was from. And she wasn't sure she wanted to open it.

Given the time to think it over, she'd noticed the way Draco hadn't greeted her once in the presence of his ex-wife -which probably meant she had no clue about his sexual encounters with Hermione. Not that she expected him to share all the details -Merlin knows she didn't tell Ron about seeing Draco these last few weeks. But then, she didn't still live with Ron, did she? Everyone knew about her divorce. She'd gone through the sneers, the whispers, the disapproving scowls. Draco Malfoy had yet to endure it. It hurt her feelings, deep down, to know he hadn't let Astoria in on at least the thought of another woman (namely Hermione) in his life.

But then a nagging conscience ate at her, whispering, 'He's not yours, Hermione. You chickened out and couldn't label it.'

Carefully, she approached the package like it were a bomb she would need to diffuse and unraveled the bow on top before prying open the top. What gleamed back at her made her mouth fall open and her breathing hitch.

Inside the box, on a bed of green silk, sat a masquerade mask that appeared to be made of colored glass. Or, perhaps, it was magic'd that way. It was simple, cut similar to Draco's _Bond_ domino mask, but with flared, upward edges. And every few moments or so, the hue of the mask would change. Red. Green. Silver. Gold. It felt feather-light as Hermione cradled it in her fingers and withdrew it, but also sturdy, as if it wouldn't break easily. A black satin band connected the mask in the back, and, despite her bewildered feelings about Draco, she walked to the mirror near the door and slipped the mask on. She watched, entertained, as the mask magically conformed to fit her face, right down to the dip in her cheekbones. She gasped, thrown by how stunning her image reflected back at her. She looked like an entirely different being -something beautiful and vexing all at once. She tapped her fingers along the mask, and with each touch, the colors changed.

"Who are you?" she asked the mirror quietly, reaching out and placing a hand over her reflection. It wasn't just the way she looked in the mask -it was the overall aura of confidence that radiated off of her like a shimmering heat wave which had her questioning what Draco Malfoy had done to her. In her five years of marriage to Ron Weasley, she'd never seen this woman. So poised. So self-assured. So sexually enticing. Was this what Draco saw when he looked at her? Or was this some trick of the mask? Or, the most likely explanation; Hermione Granger had a devilish side to her that was enticed to come out and play the moment she slipped the mask on her face. It gave her a reason to let go -a reason to give in. The mask, in essence, represented Draco Malfoy. Changing colors as well as his changing moods. Translucent, but not transparent, only giving a peek as to what was behind the man -or mask. Delicate and yet strong. Everything about the mask was a metaphor. Or was that just her brain overanalyzing yet again?

"Should I do it?" She turned her face to theowl. "Should I go?" He didn't answer back, too enticed by the raspberries as he pecked at in his bowl. She turned her face back around to the mirror and tapped the mask again, sparking the color change before its time. It glimmered red. "Gryffindor courage." She tapped it again. "Slytherin cunning." They really were a pair, weren't they?

* * *

 **Please leave a review! One more chapter to go!**  
 **~A.**


	5. Part 5

***Tears* Oh my goodness! Is Bond over already? My heart! My HEART! I love this chapter, by the way, and I usually hate my work. This one has so much heart and soul. I hope it touches you in the way it touched me.**

 **Thank you Waymay for sticking with this, adoring it, and believing in this story (and me) when I didn't. I couldn't have done this without you, so take a bow, my friend. XD**

 **Also, there's a few references to Empire by Waymay and LightofEvolution's High on Magic. Can you find them? EASTER EGGS. THEY ARE MY THING. I'd like to think all the Dramiones I write/am in involved with are just alternate universes. Earth One. Earth Two. That's why I always put Easter Eggs.**

 _ **Ready to find out Draco's secrets?**_

 **If you love, please leave a review and a favorite in your wake.**  
 **~A.**

* * *

 **A/N: During Draco and Hermione's dance, please go to Youtube and turn on "Cold" by Jorge Mendez  
It's what I imagine them dancing to, and it sets a tone for what transpires as Draco talks.**

* * *

 **"Give Me Everything" by Pitbull Ft Neyo, Afrojack & Nayer**

* * *

The green satin that the mask rested on, it turned out, was a folded Grecian style backless dress with mermaid skirting at the bottom, emerald green and _obviously_ expensive. Hermione stared at it as it hung at the top of her closet door on a coat hook as she debated on whether or not to wear it. The dress was breathtaking, for sure, but she was still hurting from the elevator incident, not to mention her last conversation with him at Bond, and… well, she wanted to stick it to him, even if it would be saying no to the most gorgeous dress Hermione ever laid eyes on. To wear it meant to represent him, and could she do that in good conscience?

She wrote to Luna two days before the masquerade to ask if she would attend as well, and received a response the same day; Luna had been asked by Jez, the bartender, and yes, she would most definitely be attending. Luna also noted that she hadn't seen Hermione in a few weeks, and asked if everything was alright. Hermione replied promptly stating everything was just fine, and that she would love to have a drink with her at Bond during the masquerade.

The rain slapped heavily against the windows of her flat come evening, and Hermione knew she wouldn't receive a reply from Luna until morning, when the rain let up and owls could continue their postal delivery. Still pondering over whether or not to wear the dress, Hermione made herself a nice cup of hot tea and curled up on her sofa with a book, 'It's All Business' by Vivian Brown. She'd read the novel three times already, but she simply couldn't put it down. Another thing she could never admit to Ginny: Hermione Granger enjoyed snarky romance novels, and this one was quite entertaining. A man, struggling to build his empire from the ground up, and a beautiful, successful partner who helped to keep his businesses from going under. Not to mention, all of the juicy sexy bits.

She was just finding her favorite chapter to re-read when someone knocked softly on her front door. Hermione narrowed her eyes. No one bothered to come to the front door anymore. They always used the floo. She stood at once, carefully tucking her book under a cushion, and walked across the room. She pressed her ear to the door and said, in her most pleasant voice, "Who is it?"

" 'Mione…" The soft, drunken drawl of one Ronald Bilius Weasley could be heard from the other side.

"Ron?" Hermione unlocked the door and pried it open; before her, sopping wet from head to toe, was her ex-husband, his red hair dripping in sheets off of his head and his wand in plain view from the hallway as he clutched it within his hands. "Ron! What are you- get in here – oh, for heaven's sake…" She pulled him in at once and fetched a towel from the linen closet, wrapping it around his shoulders before escorting him to the sofa to sit down. Ron hiccupped, thanked her, and began to towel off his hair.

Hermione took a seat next to him with a smaller towel and began to dab at his rain covered face and neck. "Did you Apparate to my front door?" she asked, scolding. He distinctly smelled of alcohol.

Ron hiccupped again, nodding. "Your floo was shut off."

"Oh." Hermione looked over to her fireplace, realizing she had closed it down nearly every night this week, just in case a certain blonde decided to try to show up at her place, unannounced. "I… I'd forgotten." She patted his ear with the towel, affectionate in her ministrations. "Ron, why are you here?"

Ron hiccupped a third time, rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and said, "I kissed someone, Mione. I kissed a woman tonight."

"Well… well, that's good, isn't it?" Hermione frowned, unsure of how the act of Ron kissing someone sparked him to show up at her doorstep in the middle of a rainstorm.

"Is it?" Ron sighed, casting his eyes to the floor. "I haven't kissed anyone else, before tonight. Not since you." He hugged the towel around himself, and Hermione softened her expression, understanding. Even though their marriage was over, it still was something else to move on entirely. She'd felt that, too, the night she'd fallen into Draco's lap.

"Ron," she said gently, "It's alright to move on."

He nodded, slowly, prying his eyes up to hers. "I know. -And I know that, I really do, but…" His eyebrows furrowed, and he let the faintest of smiles creep across his face. "It's just… weird. You know? It's like it confirmed that we were over. And… I felt guilty, because…"

"Because you liked it?" Hermione offered. Ron nodded. "I know what you mean."

"You do?" his voice went up an octave, and a protective stance formed in his shoulders. "You've kissed someone else, then?"

She didn't want to skirt around the issue- especially since Ron was so forthcoming in his actions. "I have." She gave a nod. "I would have told you, but we haven't been on the best speaking terms as of late."

"No, I know. And I'm sorry about that." Ron pulled his eyes from hers and stared down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. "I just needed time. To move on."

"I did, too. I'm not cross about it."

They both sat in silence, mulling over the other's words. Finally, Ron spoke again. "I don't know why I felt I needed to come over here and tell you about it. Wasn't tryin' to gloat or anything. I just…"

"It's alright," Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder. "I understand. We're still friends, even after everything. And you were being sensitive of my feelings. I appreciate that."

"You do?"

"I do." She hugged his shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded, smiling. "Tea sounds great. -Got any of those crumpets your Mum sends you around the holidays left over? Those are wicked awesome…"

"I'll see what I can scrounge up."

Hermione made her way to the kitchen, fixed Ron a piping hot cup of herbal grey, and found her secret tin stashed on top of the fridge full of her mother's homemade goodies. She brought a plate of crumpets, jam, and then went back for the tea before sitting down and enjoying some of the baked goods with him. They sat in silence, occasionally smiling as they chewed, until the entire plate was void of food. Then, Ron leaned back on the sofa and said, "I miss this, sometimes."

"The food?"

"The friendship. -Merlin, Hermione. I never meant for us to stop talking when all this was done." He rubbed the back of his head, thinking. "We were always good friends, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean." She nodded. "But I want you to know, it is perfectly alright with me to move on with your life. I want you to be happy, Ron. You deserve it."

"So do you," he said with a smile, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. "So… erm…" He cleared his throat. "This man you're seeing. He got a name? Anyone I know?"

"Oh, um…" Hermione chose over her words carefully. "It's not exclusive. Just a couple of evenings out. I believe you've heard his name come up between our social circles before…"

"Who is he?"

"Who is _she_?" Hermione poked him in the chest with a finger. "An eye for an eye, Ronald Weasley."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, alright. I met her through Neville. She was a couple of years younger than us in school. Name's Millie. -Who's your bloke, then?"

Hermione scrunched her face. "I'm… I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you."

"Allowed?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"No, I don't mean… I'm allowed, I suppose, to say anything I want to. He's… he just got out of a pretty nasty divorce, and I'm not even sure if it'll work out, in the end…"

"Does he make you happy?" Ron asked, putting his finger underneath her chin to tilt her head up to his. "Honestly, Mione? Does he?"

Hermione thought it over. "Yes. When I'm with him… it's easier. It doesn't hurt as much."

"That's how I feel about Millie," Ron agreed. He smiled, removing his hand back into his lap. "As long as he treats you right, you have my support."

"Same to you." Hermione smiled back. "With Millie."

She watched him give a hearty stretch and stand, pulling her up with him to fold his arms around her in a warm, caring hug. "You'll always be my best friend. I want to be able to tell you things."

"Then stop being such a stranger," she teased, poking him in the chest again when he released her. "I expect you to treat Millie nice, as well. Give her all the respect she deserves and all that."

Ron stuck his tongue out at her and slopped the towel from his shoulders onto her head, making Hermione scream. "Serves you right," he laughed as she ripped the towel off and threw it to the floor. "Harry and I are grabbing dinner Friday night, if you wanna come."

Hermione's eyes glanced over to the box sitting on her kitchen counter, where the masquerade mask resided. "As tempting as the offer sounds," she said, "I'm going to have to take a raincheck."

"Your mystery man?" Ron teased.

Hermione shoved him in the shoulder. "Something like that."

"Right, well… don't be a stranger, Mione."

"I won't, as long as you promise not to."

"It's a promise, then." He smiled and walked to the door. "Thanks for the talk."

"Don't you want to use the floo?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

Ron shook his head, laughing. "Nah. I think a walk in the rain is just what I need. Love you, Mione."

And even though Hermione knew it meant something different, it still put a flutter in her heart. Not because she wanted him to love her like a husband again- on the contrary. She much rather enjoyed this side of Ron -a best friend. A confidant. Someone she could lean a shoulder on. That kind of love, reserved for friendship, was something special indeed. "Love you too, Ronald. Get going, now, and stop by Millie's on the way home."

"Maybe I will," he said, opened the door, and stepped across the threshold. The click of the door shutting made Hermione's chest tighten. What was the old saying? One door closes as another door opens?

She snatched up her book, curled back on the sofa, and fantasized about Draco Malfoy being the downtrodden businessman in her book. One thing was for sure; Hermione Granger would go to drinks with Draco Malfoy. And she would give him every opportunity to step through the door she opened for him.

* * *

The dress Hermione settled on was still, in essence, the dress he'd picked out for her -except, in a bold act of rebellion, she'd changed the color to gold. As she stared at herself in the mirror, with the dress glimmering in the reflection, she couldn't help but be in pure awe of who stared back. She managed to tuck her hair up into a bun, straightened by three different hair solutions and a few anti-frizz spells in her arsenal. She'd written to Draco yesterday to invite him over before drinks, and, also, so that she could get a few things straight. If tonight ended up being a disaster, she wanted it to be on her terms. Not his.

She glanced at the clock hanging above her fireplace: 7:45. He'd arrive any moment now, and she nervously played with a fallen lock of hair, trying to get it to tuck back into place under a bobby pin near the top of the bun. The fire behind her lit to life in green flames, but Hermione was too nervous to turn around immediately when he stepped through. She continued to fidget with the strand of hair, opting to glancing up through the mirror as he approached her from behind.

"Hello," she said, trying her best to sound casual as she finally got the strand underneath the cursed pin. His eyes caught with hers in the mirror, and he stopped his approach, cautious. "Found your way alright, I take it?"

Draco nodded, running his hands down the sides of his onyx dress slacks. "You're not wearing the dress I bought for you."

Hermione straightened her posture, inhaled, and turned around to face him. His eyes were darker than normal -smoldering as he took in the breathtaking sight of her. "No, this is the dress," she assured him.

"But you changed the color?" he perched an eyebrow, tucking his arms behind his back as he made the rest of his way to her, standing only a foot away now. "Not that it isn't pretty… but why?"

"Because you don't deserve to see me in your favorite color," she said bitterly and watched as his other eyebrow shot up. A now matching set rested in the middle of his forehead, and he pursed his lips.

"You're still cross with me."

"You're damn right I am," she said, folding her arms. "Did you think I wouldn't be, after what transpired in the elevator earlier this week?"

Draco withdrew his eyes from hers, resting them down at his shoes, instead. Unlike the commanding, dominating man he could be in _Bond_ , the Draco Malfoy that stood before her was reserved. Careful. He crossed his arms, mirroring her, and muttered, "I apologize."

Hermione had anticipated quips -angry, saucy remarks. This version of Draco, so cool and quiet… it made her uneasy. She'd been prepared for shouting. For domination. For him to tell her what for. Instead, she felt like she was chastising a boy. It didn't make her feel big -it made her feel quite small.

She redirected her anger into quieter, gentler words. "Why didn't you acknowledge me? At all?"

"I couldn't," he said, raising his head back up to meet hers. "Don't give me that look, Hermione. I mean it. There's a lot you don't understand, and I'm trying to make that up to you, tonight."

"So do it," she told him. "Explain."

"I will." He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. "But you're going to have to let me explain my way. Alright? Demanding from me won't do anything but set me off. You're going to have to trust me, and let me explain over the course of the evening. Can you do that?" There were hints of demand in his voice, along with subtle undertones of desperation. Maybe she misjudged his cool, quiet demeanor. He wasn't being timid; he was holding back. Keeping his emotions in check. How very peculiar.

"I can," she replied. "As long as you promise to explain everything. No more secrets."

He uncrossed his arms and reached out, trailing his fingers down her shoulder, her arm, her wrist, until finally intertwining her fingers with his. "No more secrets," he agreed, nodding. He allowed his eyes to skim over hers, hunger building behind them. "You look marvelous, pet. Even if you won't wear it green, the dress looks dazzling on you."

Hermione, in spite of her heart that hurt so much these last few weeks, blushed bright scarlet at the compliment and swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. "Th-thank you."

The faintest glimmer of a smirk brushed across his mouth. "Drinks, then?"

"Drinks," she nodded, thankful that the tension between them lessened, even if ever so slightly.

Draco pulled her hand laced with his up to his lips and kissed it chastely. The comment to follow was not so innocent. "Might I enquire as to your choice in undergarments this evening?"

"You may not," she quipped back humorously.

His eyes turned up to the clock on her mantle and back to her. "We still ten minutes before our reservations… I could always take that dress off you."

"Don't you dare. It took me forever to get into it." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, you haven't earned the right to know -after what you've put me through."

"Oh? It's what I've put _you_ through, is it?" Draco carefully used his free hand to trail feather-like touches down the open back of her dress along her spine before drawing her closer with a gentle nudge to the sway in her back. "If you think, for a moment, I haven't been in torment these last three weeks, you're sorely mistaken." He pulled her close, cheek to cheek, and whispered, "I haven't been able to think straight since you walked out that night. My entire world shifted without you."

"You're very capable with words," she chided, attempting to stay in control of her feelings. It was difficult when she was in such a close proximity to him. "But how well can you match those words up with actions, I wonder?"

"Don't tempt me to." He licked along the shell of her ear. "You've no idea how much I want to forget this evening's festivities and-"

"-And we should get going, shouldn't we?"

"Of course." Draco kissed her cheek sensually before withdrawing his face from hers and kissing her hand a second time. "Side-Apparation alright with you, pet?"

"Sure."

He scooped his arm around her side, kissed her cheek, and smirked. "Lovely. Grab your mask, then."

* * *

 _Madam Mystique_ was bustling this Friday evening with elitist wizards and witches -Hermione could hardly believe Draco was able to get them such a lavish table out on the balcony to themselves, but then, given some thought, she could. He was a spoiled, rich heir with more inheritance than he knew what to do with. All he had to do was shake his arm and thousands of galleons would fall out as pocket change.

The table they sat at was simply decorated; a black table cloth, one candle that never seemed to go out, despite the warm breeze, Hermione's masquerade mask, and a single red rose tucked in a stemmed vase. And wine. A large bottle sat between them, already half-way down despite the short duration of time that passed since their arrival. Hermione tried to let the conversation flow naturally -even though she wanted to push the subject of his secret, she knew when to let things simmer. So, instead, she brought up the other touchy subject on the agenda for the evening; Astoria Greengrass.

Somewhere between Draco pouring her a third glass of wine and the arrival of a slice of white chocolate cake for them to split, Hermione asked, in her most casual tone, "So, I couldn't help but notice that you and Astoria had business at the Ministry this week." She watched Draco's eyes snap up to hers as he set the wine bottle back on the tabletop. "But I don't think it had anything to do with your divorce proceedings."

"What makes you say that?"

"The floor you chose. Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"You're observant."

"It's the floor below mine. Sort of hard to miss."

"Clearly."

"So… what brought you two to the D.O.I.M.C.?"

"Business."

"Business?" Hermione could hear the skepticism in her own voice. "What sort of business?"

"International, apparently." Draco smirked.

"Yes, but that floor is mainly reserved for businesses. So was your business a business?"

"Merlin, you're perceptive. -More perceptive than Astoria would have ever been."

Hermione, to do something, reached for her fork and gently stabbed a piece of cake. "She's pretty." She didn't let her eyes rise to his. She couldn't bring herself to. The subject hurt.

Draco's hand reached out across the table, beside the plate, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist, catching it before she could pull away. "You're prettier."

She gave a snarky laugh. "Hardly." Staring down at his fingers, she muttered, "Why did you ignore me in the elevator that day?"

Draco gave a heavy sigh, released her wrist, and withdrew his hand into his lap. The wind picked up, blowing his hair this way and that. It only added to his charm. "Astoria and I have been over for a very, _very_ long time." He raised his gaze, catching hers as she dared look up from the plate. When their eyes connected, it was like time shifted. She'd spend an eternity here if it meant she could stare into those opals of slate gray that melted her heart like chocolate on a stovetop. "But, we have a lot of investments together. _Had._ It's done now. We split our assets – that's what we were doing in the D.O.I.M.C. -Astoria's still extremely jealous, even though she was the one that tore our marriage apart. If she knew I were seeing someone-"

"-she wouldn't have signed the paperwork to split your assets."

"Precisely." A bit braver, he raised his wineglass to her, prompting her to do the same. When she did, they clinked the glasses together and sipped gingerly at the alcohol. Hermione looked down at the wine in her glass, but did not sip.

"You still could have said 'hello'."

"You don't know Astoria."

"You're right. I don't. But I, apparently, don't know you as well. -You're completely different outside of _Bond_."

"Am I?"

"You're not… well, dominating."

Draco chuckled, taking another swig of his wine. "Can't be that way all the time, pet. There are levels of… appearance to keep."

"So which is the real you?"

"Both." He shrugged. "Does that bother you?"

Hermione thought about it then shook her head. "I don't think so. So, this you right now. The one seated across the table from me. This is you? The real you and not an act?"

"Why would you think it was?"

"Because I've seen you, Draco. -The _real_ you. And it isn't like this at all."

He perched an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

"You're… gentle."

He scoffed. "Hardly."

"You are." Hermione placed the napkin from her lap on the table and stood. Draco sat his newly emptied wine glass down on the table and followed suit. They stared each other down, until, finally, Hermione stepped around the table and, when she was sure no waiter or waitress would disturb them, she leaned up on her tip toes and kissed him gently under the jaw, just where he liked it. Draco inhaled softly, a satisfied moan of approval escaping his lips. He coiled his fingers around both her wrists and gripped them as he attempted to keep steady on his feet. Hermione pulled away lightly, meeting his gentle stare. "There you are."

His eyes narrowed, and he tried desperately to slip the domination on his features, but it didn't settle. He only looked bewildered and frustrated as he released her wrists and took a step back. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" she whispered, closing the space between them while simultaneously gracing her fingers down the side of his cheek.

"That." He fought the urge to close his eyes at her touch and swatted her hand away with a brush of his own fingers. "Quit trying to tame me."

"It's alright, you know." She said her words carefully. "To be vulnerable around me. It's alright."

Draco snorted another laugh and turned his face away, overlooking the balcony. "Vulnerability is something I don't possess."

"Everyone is vulnerable to something. -Why can't your something be me?"

He still stared off, but his voice was softer when he said, "You'd want to be my vulnerability, Hermione? Well, fine. You have it. You're my goddamn weakness. That what you want to hear?" He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, crossing his arms.

"If it's the truth," she replied.

"Hmph." Once again, he tried to shift into his dominant personality, squaring his shoulders and tensing his features in foreboding ways. It came easier to him, this time, and he uncrossed his arms, instead cupping her cheek with one of his hands and rubbing the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. "I'd rather be your weakness."

"You are," she admitted. Draco blinked. Then his eyebrows crinkled. And then his other hand was on her face, settling her jaw in his palms.

"Am I?"

Hermione kissed his thumb gently as it grazed over her mouth. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You are."

"You _can_ be vulnerable and still be in control." She leaned into his left palm, closing her eyes. "If this means something to you, that is."

"You think it doesn't?"

"We meet in a club. Friday nights. And fool around. That hardly constitutes as something more." She opened her eyes, bravery shrouding them. "I can understand if that's all you want." Though she knew it would break her heart.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked slowly.

"I suppose… that depends on your secret."

Draco rolled his eyes and released her face at once. Hermione stumbled ever so slightly, taken aback by the lack of control she now felt. "I told you, I'll tell you in my own time."

She sighed and brushed her hands on her dress in nervousness. "Well, excuse me for trying."

"We should go," he told her.

"You're just going to shut me out? Just like that?"

"I'm not shutting you out, Hermione," he said, reproachful. "You're simply impatient. -You want my secret? You'll have it. All of it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." He tapped his foot. "Well? Get your mask. I can't very well give you your bloody answers with you twiddling your thumbs, can I?"

Hermione grabbed her mask off of the table and grinned ear-to-ear. "Lead the way, then."

* * *

The Apparition Point in front of Bond twinkled like starlight as they arrived. Hermione's eyes took a moment to adjust, but when they did, she realized candles hovered in the air at different intervals of height, leading a path to Bond's entrance. It was startling, and beautiful, and Hermione couldn't help but cover her mouth and gasp. "Oh, wow."

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful." The arm she laced around his tightened, and she felt a tightening in her chest. This was it. She was only moments away from his secret, and it frightened her. What if it was something scandalous? What if it broke her heart a thousand ways till Sunday? -But what if it _didn't_? What if it was something she could tolerate? Then, she thought, she'd need to make a decision on where she stood with Draco Malfoy, where she wanted to be, and if their two paths would cross again, knowing what was in her heart.

"Put your mask on, pet," Draco whispered in her ear, commanding. Hermione unwrapped her arm from around him, allowed him to hand her the mask (which he held in his hands as they Apparated) and, with a careful motion, slid it over her face and positioned the band behind her head. Once again, she felt the magic do the rest, settling the mask to fit her features in all the right ways. She could see it glimmer back in his eyes; green. Then gold. "Merlin," he muttered, dragging his finger along her jaw seductively as he tilted her head upwards. "It's perfect on you."

Hermione focused everything she had on finding a reply as she melted over the gravel in his voice. "Where's your mask?"

"Inside," he retorted simply, stepping forward, and, by default, leading her down the cobblestone pathway towards the front door.

"Wait. What?" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she stepped alongside him. "You just left your mask in Bond?"

"With the bartender, yes."

"And they didn't mind?"

Draco chuckled. "Didn't seem to." He guided her all the way to the front door, clasped his hand around the knocker, and tapped one, two, three-four. The door opened to the 'dark hallway' glamour, and Draco smirked at Hermione, his confidence building with each passing second. Bond brought it out of him. Truly, he felt at ease here, and Hermione wondered _why_ exactly. Why did he feel so happy here when he didn't do things with anyone else but Hermione? What did he get out of it before she came along? A night out with his friends? She doubted Draco Malfoy cared _that_ much for his friends. Or anything, for that matter. So why was it _here_ that she saw his bravado?

Together, they stepped through the glamour, and Hermione all but had the breath knocked out of her by the extraordinary transformation _Bond_ took tonight.

Instead of flashing club lights and bodies gyrating together across a sex-driven dance crowd, Bond took a turn for the intimate, playing soft, classical music in updated, contemporary ways. Gone were the strobe lights, and in their place were more candles floating like those outside. Every attendant was dressed at least semi-casual, with more still who opted to wear, like Draco and Hermione, more traditional, upscale couture. There wasn't a single person in attendance who didn't adorn a masquerade mask of some sort, though, Hermione thought to herself, none of them were near as glamorous as the one she wore. Draco must have spent a fortune on this dress… and mask… oh, Lord. Why did she wear it? What if it tore? What if she couldn't squeeze back out and he needed to cut it off of her? Tempting thought but she didn't want to ruin this stunning dress! _'Well, you already did. You changed the color, you stubborn-headed witch!'_ she inwardly scolded herself.

Piano and violins strummed her eardrums as Draco led them to the bar, where he tapped on the bar top once, startling Jez, the bartender, from her crouched position beneath the bar. She sprang up, a basin of lemons in her hands, and sighed when she realized it wasn't a sinister foe. "Goddamn it, Mister Malfoy. You scare the Hell out of me every time you do that."

"Poor you," Draco chided, pulling Hermione against him as he kissed her cheek.

Jez gave Hermione an approving once over.

"Well, _you_ clean up nice." Her tone was short. "Right. I expect you'll be wanting your mask, then?" she asked Draco, who nodded in response. Jez set her basin of lemons on the bar top, strolled down to the end, poured a patron a shot, and retrieved a small, black box from a drawer beneath the counter. Most of the attendees were dancing amongst the dance floor while staff in white dress robes served fluted glasses of champagne. "Here you go." Jez set the box in front of Draco, nodding curtly.

Hermione watched as Draco opened the box, and she expected to find his black domino mask. Instead, Draco cradled a mask much similar to hers in his fingertips, though it did not slant at the tips the way hers did. It was stunning, and masculine, and delicate all at once. Much the way Draco was.

"You really made that poor witch watch your mask for you?" she scolded.

"Of course I did," Draco replied, slipping the mask on his face. The spell did the rest, conforming it to his sharp features. The mask was bright, yet subtly so, and offset his dark blazer and white button down shirt in the most flattering of ways. "After all," he added, straightening the mask ever so slightly, "Jez works for me. She had to do it, if she wanted to keep her job. Isn't that right, Jezebelle?"

MHermione blinked once. Twice. Three times. She watched Jez stick out her tongue, give Draco the finger, and saunter away down to the other end of the bar. Watched as Draco reached over the counter, pulled up a bottle of scotch and two glasses, and set them down idly. Watched as he poured the drinks, a smirk creeping up his lips.

"You alright there, pet?"

"You… _own_ Bond?" she said at last, grasping the counter for support as her knees threatened to go out from underneath her. Draco nodded in response, setting a glass of scotch in her hand.

"Drink," he told her, "It'll help warm you up to the idea."

Hermione cleared her throat before tipping back the liquor and downing it whole. It burned, and her throat ached, but she swallowed it until there was no more.

"Scotch is meant to be _sipped_ ," he muttered.

She slammed the glass down on the bar top. "You _own_ Bond." This time, it wasn't a question.

"I do." His stare was even as he sipped from his own drink.

Hermione gave a small, chirpy laugh. "You own Bond." The more she said it, the less ridiculous it sounded. Of course, he owned _Bond_. How else did he know the rooms so well without having used them? How else did he always manage to have the best seats in the house? How else did he always manage to have alcohol at his disposal whenever desired? "…Is this your secret?" she asked, eyebrows drawing together in realization as she stared into those icy, metallic orbs he called eyes.

"Partially," he said quietly, taking another pull of his alcohol.

Nodding, Hermione picked up her glass and shoved it into his free hand. "Another drink, then, barkeep."

"I'm the _owner_ , not the bloody… _fine_." He rolled his eyes and poured her another. She plucked it up immediately and began to 'sip' (though it was rather more a slurp) until her nerves finally were quenched in alcohol's kiss. She began to ponder how she hadn't come up with the idea before. He'd even mentioned investors being a key reason he played nice with Astoria. Damn it all! Hermione should have figured this out sooner. Her alcohol nearly downed, again, she inhaled sharply and cleared her throat.

"Take me to Tier Three, then."

It was Draco's turn to down his drink, and he hissed at the fire in his throat. "First, let me catch you up on a few key things." He wiped his lips with his fingers and looked her once over. "Merlin, I never wanted it to come to this."

"Come to what?"

"To admit it all to you," he mumbled, reaching out to cup her face. "But… Hell, if I don't, you'll leave again, won't you?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. She couldn't deny it -if she were shut in the dark any more, she'd be gone, even if it hurt her more than anything else. "So fess up."

"Dance with me?"

They both glanced out at the floor as a calm, peaceful song took wing, breaking out amongst gentle piano caresses and melancholy violins. "Alright," she said. "And you'll explain everything?"

"I will." Draco took her hand and led her away from their glasses of scotch, to the center of the dance floor, where he placed a hand delicately on her side and another in her hand. Hermione was impressed; he held his stance with such poise. Gently, she rested her free hand on his shoulder, and he led her in a side step, beginning their dance. Draco pressed his cheek against hers, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered, "I own Bond, Hermione. I've owned it in its entirety, since the beginning. However… I didn't do it by myself…"

* * *

Draco watched Astoria stare out the window of their bedroom, wondering to himself what she stared at when she got this way. She didn't speak to him- didn't even acknowledge his existence on most days since _the suggestion_. It hurt him, more than anything, to admit to himself that he might have screwed up his marriage by suggesting with six little words: 'I want to try something different.'

"Tori," he started, hooking his feet over the bed while simultaneously setting his book down. Astoria still did not look at him, staring at whatever it is she stared at. "Tori, would you look at me, please?"

Astoria's eyebrows crinkled together. "Why don't you like what we do?"

"It's not that I don't," he said, "But… you have to admit… there's other ways of exploring each other's bodies. More intimacy."

"Intimacy," Astoria scoffed quietly. "Is that what you call wanting to control me?"

"I'd let you control me. Hell, I'd let you control everything we do, if we could just… try something _different_." He sneered the words, knowing it hurt her. "A bloke's got to have more than just missionary, Astoria. I just want to be able to… to _show_ you what you mean to me."

"And you think that's done by tying me up? Don't make me laugh, Draco Malfoy. You simply want control, same as you ever wanted."

"You're looking at it all wrong," he told her. "There's so much intimacy in letting go. In giving in to someone else. I'm not the only one in the world who thinks the way I do, you know. There's loads of others out there who-"

"-Who _what_?" She finally turned to look at him, disdain written in her eyes.

Draco's eyes darkened. "Who know that sex can be more. It can be so much more, Astoria, if you let it." He crossed the room and took a seat on the floor, kneeling at her feet. There, he kissed her hands folded in her lap and ran his fingers up her legs. "Let me show you."

Astoria scoffed again, louder this time. "I highly doubt anyone else sees your depravity."

"Bet on it?" he challenged.

* * *

"Wait," Hermione stopped him. "You opened _Bond_ on a bet?"

"More like a dare," he replied, guiding them gently around the floor, his feet sure and steady. "And Astoria, being the strong-willed woman she was, -still is- took the bait. She's much more accepted in the business world than myself… being… well, to put it plainly, an Ex-Death Eater and all." She could literally hear the flinch in his tone. "She gathered investors; I put together the funds. Together, we built an empire from the ground up."

"The rooms… they're your ideas?"

"Most of them, yes. Your friend, Loony, offered up some ideas when she heard about the business. She came on to the development team and worked on evolving some of the more magical aspects of the establishment."

Hermione took a beat to process. "Luna helped develop Bond? How did that happen?"

"She and Astoria's older sister, Daphne, go way back. It's all about who you know, you know?"

"Yeah…" she muttered, inwardly cursing Luna for not dishing out this secret she was so obviously in on. "The name, Bond…"

"I wanted to name it something fitting. Something that would reestablish the intimacy lost between couples like Astoria and I. Bloody good that did me…"

"You're a romantic."

"Don't sully my good name with that word."

"You are, though. You built an entire industry because you wanted to save your marriage? Draco, I don't know anyone else who would go so far."

He scoffed with a small laugh. "It didn't work, though. Or maybe, it worked too well…"

* * *

"You want to _what_?" Draco stood in the empty dance room at four in the afternoon, staring at his wife.

"You said it yourself. We should try new things," Astoria told him, crossing her arms.

"I meant positions and equipment. Not _-this_." He gestured to the black domino masks, at least fifty to count, sitting on a nearby table. "Encouraging people to swing? You think that's _really_ a good idea?"

"It's not encouraging. But those who want to should know what they're getting into. There should be some establishment of those who are taken from those who aren't -no mixed feelings and all that."

Draco scowled, looking from the masks to Astoria. "And do you expect _us_ to wear these as well?"

"We're taken, aren't we? Married. To each other."

"Obviously." He began to pace. "But… I don't want anyone else, Astoria. I want you. That's it. If you put that mask on, you're basically saying you'll swing."

"Do you want me to be _happy_ , Draco? Isn't that want you've wanted? Since opening _Bond_?"

"Of course I do. But we've barely tried out any of the rooms, and now you want couples to blatantly show off their status? It's asking for trouble."

"Nonsense. It'll be fun." Astoria strolled over to the table, plucked up two masks, and offered one out to him. "Come on, Draco. For me?" She looked at him sweetly, practically begging him with her eyes. Draco was torn. In his head and in his heart. But he didn't want to let his wife down. Not when she looked at him with such adoration.

"Alright, Astoria. We'll give it a try."

* * *

"Anonymity is a powerful magic," Draco told Hermione. "It can make even the tamest of witches into another being. Astoria… she liked being someone else. Who she was behind the mask- it was different. She could be anyone she wanted to. She didn't have to be Draco Malfoy's wife, or an heir to the Greengrass estate… that kind of power is consuming. And by the time I realized what happened, I barely recognized the woman she'd become."

* * *

"A third tier? What's wrong with the two we have now?"

Astoria brushed her hair in the mirror, glancing back at Draco through the reflection. "I think it would be good for business."

"You think it would be good for you to go knocking boots with other men. That's what it is, Astoria." Draco clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to steady his heart rate as it pattered against his chest like a hailstorm. "I don't want a third tier. I don't want a bawdy house in _Bond_ , or you anywhere near one. I want my _wife_ back."

Astoria merely shrugged and continued to brush her hair. "You were the one who wanted 'different', Draco. Now you'll deny me that?"

Draco's hands shook violently, and, with an unexpected flare of magic, the vase next to Astoria's seat shattered. Water dripped down the vanity, splattering against the mirror and altering her reflection as she glared back at him.

"I _will not_ stand for this," he seethed in a whisper.

"I've already put a construction contract out. And, seeing as how I'm the _primary_ owner, you really don't have much of a say in it at all."

"I did that as a _gift_ to you. Now you're going to do this? To us? To our marriage?"

Astoria swiveled around in her chair. " _What_ marriage?" she asked coldly.

* * *

"-No matter how much I begged, or pleaded, Astoria did not budge an inch. She built her little playhouse on the third floor and whored herself out to willing clientele." His voice was bitter, angry even. Still, he managed to guide Hermione gracefully in his arms as he danced with her. "I created _Bond_ as a way to become more intimate with her, and come to find out -it wasn't the adventure she didn't care for. It was _me_." He slowed them for half a moment, pensive. "That's why I never want to take you to the Third Tier." He brushed his lips against her ear. "I meant it when I said I never wanted to share you with anyone else."

Hermione closed her eyes, tears threatening the corners. Hearing Draco's story… it stirred a sense of sadness deep within her heart. What her and Ron went through… it was nothing compared to Draco's downfall of marriage. That cold, calloused woman. Hermione wanted to rip her elegant throat out. "I had no idea…"

"No one does. Blaise and Pansy… they know a bit. Not all of it, but enough."

"So when you wear the domino mask," Hermione said, trying to fit the pieces together, "You do it because your heart still hurts, and you don't want to become emotionally attached to anyone. Besides being 'married' to the public, it's your way of guarding yourself."

"Something like that," he admitted, dipping her suddenly. Hermione gasped, not expecting the fall, but she found Draco's arm a steady brace. Slowly, he dipped his head low until their noses touched, the colors of their masks shifting in unison now; silver, red, green, gold. He drew the moment out, searching her eyes for something, but she didn't know what. Then, carefully, he brought her upright to stand, reached up, and pried the mask up to his hairline. "But I'm tired of hiding," he said, smiling at her. He was the only one, in a crowded room, whose face could be seen clearly. They'd stopped dancing, but no one paid them any mind. So they stood there, in each other's arms, while Draco cupped Hermione's face thoughtfully. "I meant it when I said I was glad you fell into my lap that night, Hermione." He beckoned her with his soft touch to draw closer, and she did, finding them, once again, nose-to-nose. "I… I've wanted to tell you… for a long time… that-"

Large, masculine hands came out of nowhere and rested on both of their shoulders, startling them out of their trances as a voice boomed, "There you two are! Been lookin' everywhere for you!"

"Blaise! God _damn_ it!" Draco snapped at once, spinning his head towards the shave-headed man adorned in a green, feathery mask.

"I _told_ you to leave them alone," said Pansy, pushing her way directly between two lovers about to kiss and shoving them out of the way to make a beeline for her husband. Her mask was an exact copy of Blaise's, but with far more feathers. "I bet he hasn't even told her yet!"

"I was getting to it," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. Hermione couldn't help but laugh -of course, they'd be interrupted. Fate wouldn't have it any other way. She watched him give a rough sigh and rub his fingers down his face comically. "Before Blaise ruins it, I might as well get it out in the open. -The masquerade tonight is my way of celebrating."

"Celebrating?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. They could barely be seen behind the translucent glow of her mask.

"The reason I was in the D.O.I.M.C. -It was because Astoria, finally, agreed to sign Bond over to me. All of it." He tilted his head, smirking. "You're looking at the proud, sole owner of Bond. Tier Three will no longer be Astoria's little playground. It's been shut down. Permanently."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she looked between Blaise and Pansy for confirmation. They nodded enthusiastically. She looked back to Draco, astonished, and said, "How did you manage that?"

"We've been working on it for months," Blaise said at once, nearly stepping between the two as he explained. "Sabotaging Astoria's investors."

"You mean sleeping with them," Pansy smirked. "Blaise and I were a double team of charm. It was fairly easy blackmailing a few investors. Especially since they didn't want their spouses knowing about their extramarital affairs."

"Too many people wanted to pull out of the company for Astoria to keep her talons in," Draco chimed in, grinning ear-to-ear. "And I refused to back up any more funding. Without investors, the business would have gone under. So, I promised Astoria I'd let her keep her lifestyle here if she signed the company over to me." He brought Hermione's hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Do you understand now, pet? Why I couldn't acknowledge you outright? If Astoria had any inkling she still wasn't the center of my pining heart, as overly jealous as she is, she would have refused to sign the company over. As it were…" He side-shouldered Blaise out of the way, scooped Hermione into his arms, and brushed his lips across hers. "As soon as the documents were signed and stamped by the Ministry, I told her all about you and I. And permanently disbarred her from _Bond_."

"You -you did what?" she gasped, trying to hold back the laughter. It was all so overwhelming, and yet touching. Hermione's heart beat a mile a minute as she curled her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. She didn't know exactly why – but it _felt_ right. Everything about Draco Malfoy felt like coming home after a long day and crawling into bed with the warm covers draped over her head. He felt like that feeling she got when waking up from a rested nap. He felt _right_. And it didn't hurt that he'd told Astoria Greengrass about her and how she could shove it.

"Lookie there, Draco. I think she approves," Pansy quipped as the two came up for air.

"Room." Hermione grabbed Draco up by the scruff of his blazer and kissed him again. "Now."

"Erm -yeah. Alright." The excitement in his voice could hardly be missed as she began to drag him across the floor, determination in her stride. Pansy and Blaise could be seen exchanging entertained glances, but Hermione was too far gone to care. What Draco said -it resonated with her in a big way. Sure, their entire interaction with each other since the beginning was obscure, untraditional, and above all else highly immoral, but… knowing it was only for _her_ that he broke free of his shackles and allowed himself to feel again… It was for her that he removed the mask from his face, and his heart… it was everything.

Damn it all if Hermione Granger didn't have deep-seeded feelings sprouting in her heart for Draco Malfoy.

It wasn't until they were up the staircases and through the bright red door labeled Tier Two that Hermione removed her wand from the loop on her dress. Draco looked about the room, and upon noticing no one else resided in the lounge, he cleared his throat and said, "Alright, look, if you're going to hex me-"

"-Hex you?" She pushed the mask up her face to her forehead, revealing herself completely; she tried very hard not to laugh as she said, "I'm not going to hex you, you silly man." She waved her wand over the length of her dress and dropped the color glamour, changing it back to its original green. Draco blinked once, twice, three times before settling on a devilish smirk.

"Oh." He chuckled. "That's much more fitting…" he reached out and drew a line down the side of her stomach with his fingers, all the way to her hip. "Do you have any idea what you in that color makes me want to do to you?"

She shrugged, holstering her wand. "Pick a room."

Draco raised an eyebrow, glancing about the different doors around them. Here, in front of her, he let his real self shine through. Playful. Kind. Still a bit arrogant and bossy, but what did she expect from him? To be perfect? Ha. "It's the last room," he said, finding her eyes again. "I think you should pick."

Yes. The last room before… Hermione didn't need to be told twice. There was one more thing she needed to address, and only one way she knew how to go about it. Slowly, she placed her hand in his and guided him over to the door with a lowercase t and two dots at the bottom.

Draco looked to the door, to her, to the door again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I'm sure."

He released an anxious breath and flexed his hands as excitement washed over his fine features. "Bondage room it is, pet."

* * *

Hermione knew Draco enjoyed being in control. His dominant personality shined through this evening as he leaned back across the lounge, one leg on the floor, the other extended transversely on the chaise, and an arm across the back as he drank in the sight of her chained to the wall across from him. Her dress lay neatly folded along the back of the lounge, and Draco ran his fingers over it every few seconds while his eyes raked over her naked body. "I'm very proud of you tonight."

Hermione stood on her tiptoes, arms extended far above her head in a Y shape and manacled around her wrists. In her mouth: a ball gag. Wrapped intricately around her body: a karada harness. It gripped around her curves in all the right ways, from the curvature of her breasts to the dip between her thighs, and back around to her ass where it cupped each cheek. The rope was soft, green, and tight; Draco would have made an excellent Scout by his knot skills. It impressed her, even now, how he created such an intricate design around her frame from a single rope. He'd looped the end of it through a single, leather collar around her neck before trying it off, so every time she took a deep breath in, she could feel the choker tug. She'd been nervous, at first, giving up her control to him. But Draco had been gentle every step of the way, praising her, encouraging her, cooing gentle words in her ear when she let him take it further. Somehow, he'd even managed to convince her to let him slap her lightly across the cheek a few times. He was very convincing.

Hermione wondered how long she would stay here, hanging from the wall. It felt like eons ago since he'd finished his work and retired to the lounge, but he hadn't given her a timetable, and she didn't want to disappoint him. Their masks sat between them, on the floor, glowing like a bonfire in the dimly lit room.

Draco shifted on the lounge unexpectedly, and Hermione's heart gave a leap -would he finally touch her? She whimpered against the gag, attempting to coax him to cross the space between them and do _something_. Anything. Her body tingled in anticipation.

"Something you want, pet?" he teased in a playful tone. She nodded. "Speak up. Can't hear you." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Oh, that's right. You can't say a word, can you? Poor, poor Granger. You seem a bit _tied up_ at the moment. Should I come back later?" He rose from the lounge and took a step towards the door. Hermione jerked against the restraints, catching his attention as his lips pulled back in a smirk. "Then again… It's not every day I get to have you completely at my mercy." His dress shoes clacked against the floor as he walked past their masks and directly to her, resting a hand against her throat. "So beautiful," he whispered, "And all mine. Isn't that right?"

Hermione nodded, shifting on her toes as her calves burned from standing in the position too long. She nearly lost her footing as she attempted to move closer to him, but Draco's hand around her throat kept her in place.

"I suppose…" he drawled, leaning his face in to brush his lips against hers. "You deserve a reward. After all," his other hand snaked down her stomach and between her legs, petting her in soft strokes against her wet folds, "You complied to my demand and didn't wear underwear this evening."

Sighing softly at his touch, Hermione's hips moved in response to his fingers. She felt a finger brush against her entrance, but he didn't allow her the sweet release of slipping it in. Instead, he strummed his fingers along her clit, baiting her. Against her will, a desperate moan found its way up her throat. Everything about this was torture -but in the most exquisite way. It felt as if she was dreaming- a euphoric high from being tied up and dressed down to nothing more than ropes and skin. This was, in so many ways, much more intimate than anything Hermione had ever experienced before. Especially since she now knew where she stood with the man who stood in front of her; there was an admitted connection -something more than sex. He'd told Astoria about them. He'd taken her out for drinks for the world to see. He'd admitted to caring for her. So allowing him to tie her up… it didn't frighten her. She trusted him, and that's perhaps what Draco knew all along about this process. Trust, when earned and given, meant being able to give yourself up completely. Physically and emotionally compromised, Hermione closed her eyes and let herself be controlled.

The hand around her throat released, and she felt the loosening of the strap behind her head attached to the gag. As Draco removed the gag, she flexed her jaw to circulate the blood flow back to it. But she didn't get too much before soft lips pressed against hers, sending her body into a chorus of joy. He kissed her so gently, so full of care that she forgot herself and spoke out of turn. "Please, Draco. I need you."

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his own, and he smirked. "Do you, Hermione?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"How do you need me?"

"Inside me." She kissed him. "Beside me." Another kiss. "In my life."

She could see it written across his face; it was everything he wanted to hear. "Of course," he told her, eyes smoldering in desire as he reached for his belt buckle. "I'll do anything to please you, pet. Anything." The belt was pulled through the circlets of his trousers folded into a loop in his hand. "So long as you obey me, I'll give you the world."

Hermione swallowed hard, gathering up enough courage to reply, "It's alright to give up control, you know."

Draco eyed her, from her (now messy) bun on her head to the karada roping to the way she still perched on her toes. With a chuckle, he raised a precocious eyebrow. "And you're doing an excellent job of it."

"I meant you." She purposefully inhaled deeply, pushing her breasts further out to entice him. Licking his lips, he caressed the strap against her skin, up her stomach and higher still to her breasts, until the leather brushed against her nipples. Hermione's eyes fell closed momentarily as she took in the sensation. "I know why you need control."

"Do you?" His voice was seductive, and yet tense, as he trailed the belt back down her body before resting it just above her mons Venus. " _Do_ tell."

She brought her eyes back open and wiggled against the restraints, testing them. Damn, they were strong. "You think if you aren't in control, you'll be taken advantage of again. The way _she_ took advantage of you."

The muscles around his eyes tensed, but other than that, he remained expressionless, dragging the belt lower still until it rested against her clit. "Don't analyze me, pet. I'm not a book for you to find subtle metaphors in."

Her heart sped up when he gently tapped the belt against her -it didn't hurt. It felt… good. Damn it. There he was doing that thing again where he distracted her with his touch. She needed to focus. She needed to understand -to make _him_ understand.

"I won't hurt you," she whispered, staring into his eyes. "I don't mind giving up control. But you need to know I would never hurt you, Draco." He withdrew his eyes away from her gaze and settled them on her body, protecting himself from becoming emotionally compromised. But Hermione continued anyway. "I… I care about you, too. I want this. I want us-"

"-Stop talking," he commanded, and she did. Her mouth fell closed once more, and she waited for him to draw his eyes back to hers. "How do you do it? Hmm, Hermione? How do you give up all control you have to someone else? To me?" He grazed his free hand over her hips and dug his fingers into her pelvis. She winced, but stayed perfectly still. "I could hurt you. I could do so many things to you, and you'd have no say at all…" His fingers lessened their grip, and he gently stroked them down to her thighs, parting her legs further apart. Hermione's breathing hitched, and she felt her legs shake as she struggled to stay on her toes. The belt patted against her clit again. Softly. "Yet here you are. Why is that?"

"I trust you," she breathed out, having to control her breathing to maintain balance. "You won't hurt me."

"I could."

"But you won't." She was so close to falling over- if there could be a breeze in the room, it would knock her off her axis. She'd be left dangling by her arms, entirely at Draco's mercy. But wasn't she already? "You care about me. And I care about you. And-" She was shut up with a firm, intoxicating kiss as Draco tossed the belt to the floor. His hands caressed up and down her frame, pulling her up off her feet momentarily so that she could bring her toes back to center. The ache in her legs lessened, and she kissed him back just as passionately, finding it to be as natural as breathing. Draco was her own, personal drug, and she was the ever-so-willing junkie feeding off of his high. What they had wasn't simply physical -it was emotional. It was magic. Magic that she could get high on again and again.

Fingers tweaked her nipples, causing her to gasp and break the euphoric kiss that sent heat waves through her core. Draco smirked, playing with both her breasts now as he told her, "This round will be rough. I want you to know that right now. But what will follow, later…" He released her nipples and kneaded her breasts erotically. "…will be the best goddamn sensual love making experience of your entire life."

"Mmm…" Hermione's breathing became erratic, and she chewed her lower lip as she begged him. "Take me, then. I need it."

Draco chuckled, discarding one piece of clothing at a time; a blazer, his button down, next the dress shoes and socks… he left the onyx dress slacks on, toying with her as he reached down and undid the button at the top. "What do you need, Hermione?"

"You."

"How should you address me, pet?"

"Master."

"Good girl."

"I need you, Master. Please. Fuck me, Master."

Draco slid the zipper down painfully slow, and as his trousers loosened around his frame, she could make out the delectable V of his pelvic bones all the way down to… "Is this what you want, pet?" He withdrew his cock, already hard and leaking precum from the tip. "You want my cock inside you?"

"More than anything," she groaned, moving against the restraints as she forgot herself. She ran her tongue across the apex of her lips to entice him. "Please, Master. I've been so good."

"Have you?"

"I've let you tie me up. I've done everything you've asked." Hermione fed him line after line, playing her part well. The sub in her was ever so willing to come out and play, especially against Draco's dom.

"But have you been good enough?" He tormented her, stroking his fingers down his shaft and back up the velvety muscle. She imagined how wonderful it would feel inside of her, and a low, guttural sound erupted from her throat -was that a growl? She wasn't aware she did that…

"Fuck me," she demanded, fighting the manacles around her wrists. "God, Draco. I can't wait any longer. This is torture."

He smirked, stepping up to her and hiking one of her legs up around his hip. "Well, well, well. Look who has a demanding side, too?" Draco played with her, sliding the head of his prick up and down the wetness between her legs but not giving her want she wanted. "Beg nicely, Hermione." She could tell he was trying so hard not to chuckle.

She fought back the urge to snarl something mean and played to his weakness- leaning forward and kissing tenderly under his jaw, beneath the ear.

"Mmm…fuck…" he moaned quietly. His hips automatically rolled in response, and he pressed the tip into her ever so slightly. Hermione maintained her presence on his neck, kissing and nibbling and biting until he sheathed himself inside of her completely, lost in her ministrations. Once he realized his mistake, he gripped her thigh hard and yanked her off the floor, wrapping both of her legs around his hips. "Brave move, pet. It'll cost you." He thrust into her harshly as his nails dug into her hips. Hermione screamed, arching her back, still not fully stretched around him before he withdrew himself and shoved back in.

"God!" she gasped as she was thrown up against the wall, legs still around his pelvis as he pistoned in and out of her, rough and dominating. Her head fell back and smacked against the wall. She didn't care. Though she was off the floor, Draco kept her the appropriate height to still feel the manacles brace her wrists, even if they were a bit looser now. She wanted to reach down, to run her fingers through his hair, to hold his shoulders as he took her, but all she could do was lean back against the wall and be taken like the subordinate pet she was. She understood it, now, why he called her pet. And he had been right before -it wasn't meant in some perverse way. It was his way of telling her she belonged to him. _With_ him. Familiars. Confidants. Friends. Lovers. Together.

"Harder," she groaned, feeling her back scrape against the wall behind her. She welcomed the pain mixed with the pleasure of him filling her up again and again. Draco gave a pleased sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, scraping his nails down her legs in a show of unbridled possession. His teeth sunk down against her throat. He fed her his cock until she screamed, but, even then, she wanted more. Hermione discovered she rather enjoyed pain as he left love bites down her neck and shoulder, marking her. 'This woman is mine.'

When he was satisfied with his initial branding on her, he began rocking into her slower, but with more force. He pulled out to the tip before slamming back inside of her dripping warmth repeatedly, coaxing the screams from her throat. "That's it, Hermione," he whispered against her collarbone. "Fucking scream for me." Skin slapped against skin. Mouths met in heated fury. More screams. Even more sighs. "Good girl," he said against her throat as he slammed mercilessly inside of her, "My good girl. Taking this cock… like the princess you are…" He lowered his mouth on her nipples, gingerly kissing and nibbling -a complete opposite of the way he pounded into her. His carnal desires lit to life as he took her, until, finally, he slowed his advances and, without warning, withdrew himself and set her down to the floor.

Hermione groaned in protest. "Don't stop.. don't.. please…"

Draco grabbed her hips and spun her around, crossing her arms over her head as they still held her in place. There, he stroked down her back with his fingers before drawing one of her legs up into his hands and positioning himself. "You're going to come like this, pet. Even if it takes all night. We're not stopping until your pussy is dripping. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she sighed, satisfied when he sheathed himself within her again. Draco curled his free hand around her stomach and down to her clit, where he began to trace delicate circles while fucking her. From this angle, Hermione could feel every inch of his cock inside of her, and she moaned incoherently as he built her up like a stack of dominos. It wasn't long until she tightened around his cock and came in a stream of obscenities and unhinged moans. The first one was intense. The second time he made her come, it was gentler. The third time, an hour later, after bringing her to the edge over and over simply to deny her, was sweeter than frosting off of a cake. Sweat glistened off her forehead. Her hair had come down long before, and it now draped over her shoulders as Draco rocked her against the wall, facing him now, having released her arms so that she could fold them around his neck. They were still bound, but not having to keep them above her head was all that Hermione needed as he sent her into a simmering orgasm that forced her eyes shut and her to mewl against his neck. Draco Malfoy came shortly after her, this time burying his face in her hair and whispering her name, followed by a question.

"Come home with me tonight?"

Hermione blinked back tears, overwhelmed by the euphoric energy of her orgasm mixed with the tenderness in which he asked those words. Still with her face in the crook of his neck, she mumbled out, "What… about… Astoria?" It was asked between pants.

"She's gone," he told her, kissing her softly along the pulse in her throat. "Moved out the moment I told her about us."

The grip around his neck tightened as Hermione pulled their bodies together in an affectionate hug. She leaned her face up and kissed him against his cheek. "Yes. I want to go home with you."

She heard him give an anxious sigh of relief. "You should know, before you do…" His arms tensed as he held her against him, but he mumbled it anyway, "I'm falling for you."

Hermione laughed, pulling her face back so that she could look him clearly in the eyes. They were worn, confused, and slightly bitter at her laughter until she shook her head and smiled. "I've already fallen."

Draco's lips slowly pulled back in a smirk, and he chuckled along with her. "Don't expect me to catch you, then. I hope you fall hard. Straight on your ass." To emphasize his teasing, he pretended to drop her, but catching her mid-motion and laughing.

"You're the ass." She stuck out her tongue.

"A sexy ass," he retorted immediately, waggling his eyebrows. "And yours, I'll remind you. I'm your ass."

"Which you've wished me to fall hard onto."

He shrugged. "You can fall on me anytime you want. Especially a certain appendage…" They both laughed as Draco set her carefully on her feet. Hermione braced against the wall for support as her legs wiggled like jelly, and he retrieved his wand from the chaise lounge, spelling the ropes and bindings away. He brushed his hand down her neck and gave her an apologetic grin. "You might need a few glamours for work come Monday. Those won't be going away any time soon."

"Good." She leaned forward, up on her toes, and kissed his lips chastely.

"Can you walk straight?"

"Not sure yet. I'll let you know when I can feel my toes again."

"When you do… care for a dance or two?" He tilted his head and smiled.

Hermione nodded. "Once I'm right on my feet again. I've never been so properly shagged in my life. Please, keep it up. I don't mind."

Draco laughed. "Have I mentioned I'm falling for you?"

* * *

Once dressed, and two glamour spells later, Hermione and Draco made their way back down to Tier One. They danced until their feet were sore. They drank until they both were tipsy. They played a round of wizard's chess in the back corner with Pansy and Blaise, occasionally necking and displaying their affections for one another. Not once did they put their masks back on.

* * *

As the evening wore down, and most couples retired to Tier Two, Draco took Hermione by the hand and walked them out to the Apparition Point, curling an arm around her waist while whispering, "I'm so very glad you fell into my lap."

"Me too," she whispered back.

* * *

The rest of the night was spent in discarded clothing, soft whispering, and gentle caresses. They took their time, feeling each other out, loving the way their bodies melded into one another's. This time, Draco did not control, nor did Hermione. They built each other up as a team with diligent, careful touches and soft rocking of their hips. They made love in Draco's bed until the sun peaked over the horizon, and even then, just a bit more.

When they were finally spent, Hermione fell asleep a pair of warm arms wrapped around her and the gentle caress of his voice as he told her, "I love you."

Right before sleep took her completely, she whispered, out of the corner of her mouth, "I love you, too."

* * *

 ***(*)***

* * *

"Come on, Harry! Luna said this will be fun!" Ginny tugged at her husband's arm as she led them down the cobblestone steps towards the black brick building known as Bond. Harry looked between Ginny and his friend Luna, who smiled warmly and nodded. Harry wasn't convinced.

"Gin, you know what kind of place this is- I hardly think we belong-"

"Everyone belongs," Luna said in a sing-song voice as she knocked on the brass knocker once, twice, with two quick knocks to follow. She led the pair inside, and Ginny's eyes lit up at the dance floor, in full swing.

"Oh, look Harry! Dancing! Oh, come on. Have a bit of fun. Don't look at me that way."

Harry looked about to the crowded dance floor and shook his head, disbelieving. "I need a drink," he muttered, making his way to the bar. Luna and Ginny followed him, taking a seat on either side as they found three stools at the end.

Luna winked at the bartender -some pretty thing with short hair, and said, "A round of shots for my friends, Jez. Oh, don't give me that look. They're married and _straight_."

Harry cast his eyes around at the guests in Bond, taking in the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, and even further out, to the corner lounge set up against the far wall, where a pair of four toasted with glasses of champagne.

"Luna," Harry said, pointing over to the couples; two wore black domino masks, two wore white. "What's with the masks?"

"Oh." Luna patted Harry gently on the arm. "The black masks means swingers."

"Swing –Swingers?" Harry gasped, scrunching his eyebrows together and groaning. "Damn it, Luna. What have you brought Ginny and I into?"

"It's alright, Harry. You and Ginny can take some white masks instead. It was the owner's wife's idea -they're for the taken couples. The ones that don't want to share."

"Oh, can we, Harry?" Ginny squealed excitedly from her stool. "Come on. It'll be fun!"

Harry glanced over at the couple in white masks. They looked rather familiar, even though he couldn't make out their faces. The man had white blonde hair, a lot like Malfoy… and the woman's hair was so curly it nearly resembled…

Nah. Couldn't be. They wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this.

He looked over to his wife, knocked back his shot, and sighed. "Alright, Gin. Just the once. What the Hell, right?"

* * *

 **~FIN~**  
 **What did you think? XD**  
 **~A.**


	6. Dramione Award Finals!

_**Hey, everyone. No, not a new update, BUT super exciting news! Bond has been nominated for a Dramione Award for "Best Smut"! Will you please consider voting for me?**_

 _ **Link can be found here (just take away the *'s):**_

goo.*gl/for*ms/0qE0*Aoa9*on1U9*PnH3

 _ **There are some amazing contenders this time around, so please, check out all of the applicants and vote how your heart tells you to (even if it isn't for me)**_

 _ **I promise to update soon**_  
 _ **With love**_

 _ **A.**_

 _ **(P.S. If you have a problem with the link, message me on facebook or here and I will try to help you out)**_  
 _ **(Don't worry, I plan to delete this 'chapter' once voting ends. I promise!)**_


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